In the Lethe Series 2
by Skye10
Summary: Three years have past after the events of In the Lethe, when Castiel made his choice to save a demon and the Winchesters made theirs to save one other. All that Dean, Sam and Castiel have fought for to save friends, lovers and family has started to fall apart. Old enemies begin to stalk those that they love and so it comes down to a choice. It will always come down to a choice.
1. Nameless (When Angels Return)

**In the Lethe** **Series 2**

**Part 1: Nameless (When Angels Return)**

_She was dying._

_It came to her slowly. A dangerous and painful thought that had started to nibble away at her, but she knew it for what it was. Truth. This had gone on too long for there to be any other choice. Now she just wondered it when it would ever come. How it would come. If she would feel the knife or if death would arrive slowly if they forgot her here, in this tiny cell. _

_There might be no escape, but she knew that there was something was different tonight. The air was still arid, stifling and so closed in within the tiny mud room that every breath took too long to inhale, too quick to exhale. That hadn't changed. Only now she felt the pressure of the tiny room pushing on her, trapping her. Caging her._

_Drowning in heat. She was drowning under the heat and the suffocation._

_Moaning, she let her head sag back to where her arms were tied over her head. Her shoulders had dislocated hours before and the pain of it was a dull throb now. With her breasts exposed and her skin battered ugly shades of purple and green, tiny sharp cuts causing rivulets of blood still to ooze from her, she knew that she was nothing like what she had been. Fine robes gone, thin to the point of starvation, her rings torn from her. Gifts from men she was forced to swallow as punishment for being what they had made her. Thrown to the dogs by the very people who once called her friend. Left to wait. Left to die if they didn't come back._

_All this because of faith._

_Or because of her lack of faith._

_Why worship at something she couldn't see? Couldn't touch? Why worship a being who would watch her rape and torture at the hands of his holiest of men, who could do so much and yet did nothing according to his worships? No faith could absolve the sickening touch of hands on her body or the agony of long hours of the branding. _

_No faith was worth that._

_Nearly choking on the chewed bit of her tongue left, she moaned and let her head sag forward. Ropey strands, crusted and darkened by the blood, hung before her bloodied eyes. Obscured the floor and the leather used to bind her feet though they could barely reach the floor anyway. Even the dark skin of her feet were stained by blood._

_She was so tired…_

_A soft humming sound, like the breeze after a sandstorm, woke her again and struggle to open her eyes further. Bare feet, remarkably clean on the dirt floor, could just be seen through her matted hair and she lifted her chin shakily. Just a little, just enough that the strain in her neck caused her vision to blur. The ropes cut into her hands when she tried to pull herself up to look. _

"_Beautiful. Only one other could truly appreciate the sheer artistry of what has been done to you." The voice was male, low and so different than any other she had heard. He spoke her language but the accent was heavier. She struggled to focus, to truly see, and a pale man with short cropped hair the colour of fire, grinned back at her. Nothing of it made sense, from his thick leather armour to the centurion helmet tucked under his arm. Kentarch… she'd only met one or two before._

"_Just lovely. I was told you were here but I didn't expect to see you in such a state." He reached out and touched a gaping wound in her arm that still wept pus and blood. Unable to find the strength scream, she simply moaned and let her head fall forward. He sat before her on the tiny stool and popped his soaked fingers in his mouth, tasting the fluid. He eyed her like he might a bug he was going to squash before grinning at her. "You're nothing but a child. Really. Very young."_

"_Who…" Her head lolled as she eyed him. Too weak to fight, too weak to question. He looked almost like the man who had betrayed her. His blue eyes flickered to a sudden, sickening yellow. The sight caused a scream to finally rise in her throat and she opened her mouth. His hand, cold and wet, slapped over her and pinched the chapped lips together._

"_Shh, beautiful girl. I'm the monster your kind calls upon when sins of the past, when what you are, catches up with you. When you need a chance to break free. Normally another would take my place when your life is at such a crossroads but you…" He stroked her mouth with his thumb. "You might be worth far more attention. Such sweet tragedy in those strange eyes of yours. I have always longed for a second in command worthy of my teaching."_

_What poetry was in his words was lost on her as those yellow eyes swirled with impossible light. His hands dug into her face as he cupped her thin cheeks and pressed a little, until her jaw bone fractured a little and she could only moan in pain._

"_You…" He stroked her ropey hair and leaned forward, still whispering seductive, intelligent words. "I can give you a bargain you will never expect. The same another would offer you but I found you first. My price is perhaps… a little different."_

_Her eyelids drooped low as he ran his hands over her head like a comforting father. Or a man about to slice the throat of a dying animal to give it mercy._

"_Vengeance. Wouldn't it taste sweet? Revenge on the men that would kill you for not falling in line with them. Ten summers of freedom to do what you will to them and become what you could have been." His hands stroked her face. "Then, when ten summers pass…"_

_His head ducked and his mouth ghosted over hers. "You are mine. My pupil if you pass through the Pit intact. Mine and you will love me. You will obey me. There is so much to do before He returns to us." _

"_Why?" she managed, the coolness of his hands in contrast to the heat of the room causing a heady sensation to pool in her body._

"_Because of what I see in you. No one else could even imagine it." His mouth was close. "Do we have a bargain?"_

_Her mind clung to what it knew. She had fallen into this trap because of her lack of faith, because of love._

_She wanted their deaths._

_When she nodded, he laughed and those yellow eyes swam within her vision._

"_You have to say it."_

"_Yes."_

"_Good girl." He crushed his mouth against hers and she tasted sulphur and blood in his mouth. As he made the simple almost perfunctory kiss more furious, she whimpered and succumbed to the overwhelming sensation of darkness invading her every pore. Everything became clear. She knew what she had to do._

_In that moment, she tasted faith_.

* * *

There was fire and ash when Hell went to war. There was light and wind that could evaporate darkness when Heaven came to the Pit to steal their chosen back. Wars there lasted lifetimes though to Earth it would only be days.

But when Purgatory invaded, the smell was of earth and blood, the darkness met by a strangeness that had never come to Hell before.

Even the rulers of Hell had been unprepared for them. The angels were expected. Once Grace was regained, their first move was to reclaim the souls that Hell had managed to steal; the battles had been bloody and brilliant. Earth had stood still as for a moment it had seemed like demons and angels would destroy each other completely. But as always, a deal was struck in exchange for souls. A fragile truce based on lies and deception. Neither side would admit to the losses they suffered.

It was why when Hell found itself threatened by something so simple as monsters that it was a surprise.

Finding a backdoor to Hell through Purgatory had been a surprise. Though, as Crowley pointed out from topside where he ruled the Crossroads and waited for the perfect moment, maybe things like that should have been expected.

After all, the Winchesters had been the cause of that.

When weren't they at the heart of those problems?

* * *

"Look, Sam, I'm telling you that something fishy is going on up here," Dean snapped into his cellphone as he paid at the counter. The cashier eyed him suspiciously, like everyone else in town had, and he grinned back at him when the man stared too long. Just as quickly the cashier looked away, flustered that he had been caught.

"Literal fish, considering people are being dragged into the lake and eaten?" Sam's sarcastic voice was garbled over the airwave.

"I'm going to ignore that."

"I thought I was funny."

"Yeah, that's one thing we _don't_ share, Sammy. I'm the funny one." Dean grabbed the box of pie and his beer and headed out the door. It jingled loudly as it shut behind him and he passed two small women, giving them a grin and wink. No use in being unfriendly and getting noticed anymore than he and Sam had been. But the one woman turned her head towards him abruptly and stared back at him. Startled by intensity of her look, he could only stare back as she bared her teeth in a strangely animalistic warning. Then it was gone and the snarl was replaced by a sunny smile that suited her young face.

For a second, Dean was sure he was seeing things. It had been a long drive up here, a spur of the moment trip based just off information from Garth that something was going on. The night they had found a place to stay, there had been three deaths out at the lake. A woman and her children had been dragged into the water and drowned, with her throat torn out and only soaked toddlers' clothing left behind. No witnesses, just the tracks of something large and finned in the trails close to the water.

Chalking his anxiety up to hunger and exhaustion, he shrugged and continued on to the Impala. Sam was still rattling away in his ear about why this made even less sense than when they had arrived. Dean rolled his eyes and let him continue on, knowing if he interrupted Sam would just start all over again. Just to irritate him if he knew his little brother.

"We're in Southwest Virginia. The whole state hasn't had a mass amount of action lately and now, boom, suddenly fish people eating them? That doesn't sound a little strange to you?"

"Stranger things have happened." Dean juggled the boxes around, trying to find his keys. "Monster activity has been skyrocketing lately. Which is kind of messed up considering that you'd think they would be lying low."

"With the demons retreating back to Hell, and the Angels getting their Grace back, yeah." Sam was rustling some papers around. "I can't find anything in the library though, Dean. No history of people dying in the lake. Nothing. It's like this sort of stuff doesn't even exist to this place. This town has no history of monsters. Barely anything for demonic occult either."

"There's got to be something. Do fish people even migrate? Hell, do we even know much about fish monsters from the Black Lagoon?" His joke fell flat as Sam continued to try to explain why this was impossible. Unwilling to set the boxes on the damp gravel down, Dean felt the beer case slipping out of his hand. "Shit shit shit!"

Before it could fall to the ground, another hand appeared and snatched it before the bottles could break. He froze, staring at the familiar tan sleeve and looked up.

Castiel eyed him patiently. "You could simply have put it all down."

He took in a deep breath. "Cas."

Sam stopped mid-rant. "Is that Cas?"

"Yep. Captain Heaven in the flesh." Dean couldn't help but tease the angel over his ranking considering the angels had resumed the Garrison. Castiel said nothing, just held the beer and waited patiently for Dean to finish. "Maybe he's here to help. I'll call you back."

As he hung up on Sam, Castiel squinted a little at him. "I wasn't here to help you. I need you to help me."

"No, I need your help.

"I asked you first." He sounded annoyed enough that Dean frowned back and took the beer case out of his hands.

"What are you, five years old?"

"I think that I've told you, considering the space and scope of time, that calculating my age is…"

"Spare me the Castiel's intro to math lessons. Had enough of those in the past couple of years." Dean sighed, giving up. He could recognize that determined look on the angel's face. "Well, you know. You're family, so we share the help around. Let's hear it. What's up?"

"The angels have been hearing things."

"That's an accomplishment." Dean opened the trunk and set the boxes in. "I've been praying to you for weeks now, since you guys went to war. Sam and I… and I've heard nothing from you."

"I had more things, bigger things, to worry about, Dean." The angel looked away, watching the shop instead of the hunter. "Things that I can't ignore."

Dean ground his teeth. Since regaining his Grace, since his time spent as a human, much of the naivety Castiel had managed to hold onto before had been shed. In more ways, he reminded Dean of when they first met. Cold. A soldier in the purest sense.

Though Dean knew, like only those closest to the angel might, the chinks in that armour he had. There were moments when Castiel was unguarded but what had happened over the past years, from the Metatron's betrayal to his humanity, had embittered him more than Dean had expected. Had liked. He'd been different than when he had started falling before. Before he had been fighting his fate. Now he simply accepted whatever he was given without question.

Nothing like the Castiel that had learned about freedom.

"Hell has been quiet ," the angel said after a moment's silence.

"Thought that was a good thing."

"I don't mean wars or schemes. I mean the Gates and the souls that go through them." He drew an imaginary rectangle as if to demonstrate. "The Reapers have been taking no souls there. The ones that slip through… it is like a trickle. They've just… stayed still. We've gone through several thousands to see if they could come to Heaven, or even be reborn immediately if we can find a way. We do not interfere like that but we can't leave them. It isn't what God would want and I can't find Death to get any sort of explanation."

"So they can't get to their punishment. And this is bad because…" Dean was only half-listening. Hell, to his memory, was not really a place he wished on anyone. So someone had closed the Gates a bit themselves, so what?

"Then all of those souls have nowhere to go. They rot in the ground for eternity, which is a bad idea." Castiel leaned against the Impala comfortably. "There is no other place for them to go besides Heaven or Earth. I highly doubt you want more ghosts on your hands. I'm not even sure what happens to demons when they die anymore."

"Never thought angels would miss Hell's presence," Dean said.

He got a shrug for an answer. "Everything has a balance."

"Guess this is where Lethe would have come in handy, huh?" When he said that, he watched Castiel's face carefully. But the angel was looking at the cars across from him as if he'd never seen them before.

"If I summon Crowley or Abaddon, they will not come and they likely have wards against angels. But I was thinking that perhaps you…" Slowly, his blue eyes dragged away from the cars to Dean's face.

"No freaking way. Come on, Cas. You saw what those demons pulled on me and Sam. Enemy of my enemy is my friend is crap when those bastards are involved. Only worked for us once anyway." Explosively, Dean slammed the trunk shut. "You are asking me to risk our necks because you guys had that big scrap a few weeks back and you don't want to get pally with them right now. I get it. But they won't answer our summons anyway."

"Crowley will. You remember? He is hardly Abaddon's friend and he's always ready for a deal." He rolled his eyes heavenward. "Something about this that makes me believe we need to find out what is happening in Hell if they are closing pathways. Even for demons, they've been far too quiet."

"Fair enough but what's to keep Crowley from ripping our throats out? He's not exactly president of our fan club."

"I will be there if there is trouble." He ignored how annoyed Dean looked. "I just need you both to summon him for me."

"That'll end well. Putting you and Crowley in the same room tends to end in someone getting' bloody. Fine. Just… fine. " Dean rested his arms on the car hood and stared at Castiel thoughtfully. "How is Heaven, anyway?"

"Angels never thought they would owe a debt to human souls but I think they are getting over that embarrassment now." He shrugged. "No signs of Metatron or the others. Whatever they were up to isn't likely to ever be known. Michael is somewhere in this world but he still has no interest in any of the angels. He wanders. I wonder if he is one of the few that won't recover from losing his grace, from the madness he came back with. What I did to him, what… she did to him, it changed him."

"Or maybe that whole thing had nothing to do with Michael's plans and getting kicked out of Heaven just happened anyway. I know you guys might be willing to hunt down good old Marv," Dean said while watching Castiel closely. The angel sighed and turned around.

"No, we're not." When he saw Dean looking to say something he held up a hand. "As painful as it was, that punishment…."

"Gee, thanks. Glad the human experience was a bad taste in your mouth."

"It was for the best for many of them," Castiel snapped. "They learned more about humanity in that time than they have in millennium. Some miss it even. I hope it makes better angels out of them because many realized how to make the best of our worlds. How we could try to find happiness."

Dean nodded and scratched at the back of his hand without looking up again. "And you, Cas? Were you happy?"

"I was content."

He rolled his eyes at that. "That's not the same thing and no, you weren't. You gave up, then you chose to fight again. But not once were you as happy as you claim. I could tell."

"I said content. I never said happy."

The angel turned to leave and Dean cleared his throat.

"You did what you had to do, Castiel. For the angels… and for them."

He saw Castiel's fingers tighten into a fist but before he could look at his face, the angel was gone in a flutter of air and cloth. Dean shook his head and carefully looked around at the store. The two women were sitting on a picnic table close to the other cars, staring at him. One grinned and he blinked, thinking he'd seen fangs and black eyes.

But then it was gone and he knew he could have hallucinated that.

* * *

Castiel didn't go far from where he had left Dean in town. Though part of him knew he should return immediately to Heaven or even to where he had last seen Crowley, he lingered in the park close by. Standing in the forested shoreline of the lake, he took a rare moment to himself. He never had those lately. Rebuilding the Garrisons, counselling the angels who had not wanted to return, who had been forced to return or risk death, the war against Hell… all of that had taken so much time. Now the souls trying to enter Hell but turned away were consuming his attention. Without a war, without a battle, the angels were growing restless. Without Naomi, or any other angel who had known in advance, he was having to contend with new power struggles in Heaven itself.

The strange seraph who claimed to be Michael was no help either. Or the remnants of the greater angels who refused to come home. But he had. He had too much at risk if everything started to spiral out of control.

_He needed rest_.

That feeling was all too familiar. He'd never thought to consider time moving too fast or too slow; none of it had ever mattered before. Now it did. Castiel closed his eyes and tried to force himself to relax.

When he put his hands into his coat pockets, his fingers brushed against the worn smooth surface of a small leather bound book. It had been Sam's idea in the beginning, a way of distracting him, and something Castiel had become accustomed to as he watched Sam chronicle everything he and Dean did. It was easy to imitate him but slowly he had made it his own. He'd carried the journal for three years, adding pages, removing them, scratching things out and ripping things up.

At first his journalling was by the day, then the week, and in the past year just every month. Things he'd found, learned, experienced… things he had missed. The more precious of those pages he kept, the rest were thrown away. Every page was dated in reverse until the past nine months were in the negative and scratched out. The journal confused Dean and Sam, baffled the angels, but to Castiel the pages made perfect sense.

_Three years._

He'd expected something monumental to happen the anniversary of the third year. He had waited for something, anything, to give him a sign that it was over. That he could believe that he would be allowed something he'd never thought to want before. A flicker of a spell cracking, a feeling of release, or even the slightest warning that something was going to change. Instead, a war in Hell and the angels returning to Heaven had pulled him into battle. After that, there'd been no signs.

Nothing.

Just sameness. The same loneliness, the same ache he'd felt both as an angel and as a human. It had dulled over time, scarred over and slowly became bearable. But then, at that three year mark, some absurd hope had made it sharp again, so sharp he had spent every day waiting until he realized nothing was going to change. Until he tried to bury it with his other worries and troubles.

But it was there, always ready to sink into him when he least expected it.

Nothing had changed, from then to now.

Glancing at a wrinkled page, he scratched out an obscure note and wrote the date and the number of days down. It was a force of habit now. Unlike his addiction to alcohol and painkillers for a brief span of time, or his odd cravings for sugar, he'd never overcome it.

Castiel flipped back through the book as he took a seat on the water's edge and lowered his head to read what he'd written that day that three years had passed. Using his fingers, he traced the cursive writing of the only three words on the page. One a false name, the other two true names.

Acting cold and indifferent hadn't distracted him from it at all. Time as a human hadn't nor regaining his Grace. Nearly four years hadn't erased it.

He missed them both.

Thousands of angels were his family. Two humans were his brothers, his best friends.

He was still one of the loneliest creatures on Earth.

* * *

_The bar of the rack pressed into the muscles around her spine. Or what was left of them. Each slow dig of the sharp wheel behind her bit deeper and deeper into her, until she could feel it just brushing bone. She knew she was missing parts of herself. Here, in this dark place, there was a sensation of being out of body. Not that she really had one now._

_What the knives and the flames tortured was her soul._

_Twisting it and perfecting it, as he liked to say to her when she stopped paying attention. _

_It was easy to learn to disassociate herself from the pain. To push it down and let her desire for her own hand at the knife let her survive._

_A hand slapped her hard on the face when she started to close her eyes. White eyes flicked over her face. "Come on, girl. Pay attention. I don't have all century for you to learn the ropes."_

_Something wrapped around her throat immediately. "Ah, speak of the devil."_

_She choked as the pressure increased and the hand she had free raised, broken fingers and all, to try to unwrap the rope._

"_You made the deal knowing this was how it could be, little girl." He leaned in close and she smelled rotting on his breath. As always. She wasn't sure what he was. She only ever saw white eyes glowing in the darkness. He knew that she felt more comfortable in the dark and he liked to use that against her. But he only made her scream on certain occasions._

"_I'm here to break you," he sang out. "And then to put you back together like I do."_

_Her skin crawled at the underlying threat of that. If he'd left her tongue in today, she could have answered him with what insults she could think of. But all she could do was let her eyes speak volumes at him. He grinned at the look. _

"_Yes, yes, girl. I know." Stroking her face, he clucked his tongue. "It is midweek and you know what that means I hope."_

_It was impossible to hide the gleam in her eyes._

_He smirked as they flickered black, just a little. "Yes, my dear. Your turn to play for today."_

_But before she could feel much relief, he raised his favourite knife and tapped it against her cheek._

"_But first, I just want a taste. You are one of my favourites, you know. A shining star in my students." _

_Even without her tongue, her screams took on a piercing, musical tone that made her Teacher smile as he continued to tell her all the best sweet spots to hit. Always a lesson in his tortures. Always something new to learn. A new way to torture a victim to make the succumb._

_She had been down here for what felt like eternity and every day, he taught her a new way to scream. _

* * *

"How'd he look?" Sam asked as he finished the chalk lines on the ceiling of the motel room. He stepped down off the chair and dusted his hands on his jeans.

"Looked like just old Castiel." Dean shrugged as he finished mixing. "Human Cas was a mess but at least he was a bit more open with what he felt. Angel Cas?" He made a face and shook his head. "He tries to act as if he's fine and that he's back to being . But we both know something is wrong."

"Yeah. He's not exactly had it easy in the past few years."

His brother shrugged again. "Neither have we, remember? Shared souls, deals gone wrong, Angels to get back into Heaven and demons to try to keep one step ahead of?" He gave his reflection in the window a look. "Really it is just the same thing year after year. We're just older from it."

"Yeah." Sam stood behind him and made a show of looking at the top of Dean's head. He twisted uncomfortably to look up at him.

"What are you doing?"

"Check you for any bald patches or grey hairs."

"Not all of us can get salon quality hair on discount budgets like you, Sammy." He swiped his hand through his shorter hair. "I don't have grey hairs or bald spots." Dean's fingers probed. "Do I?"

"Whatever you say, old man." Sam shrugged and grinned again.

"Shut up." He was shoved away and Dean muttered about him being a jerk. Chuckling, Sam quickly grabbed Ruby's knife while his brother held out his hand. "Here goes nothing."

They cut his thumb, and he squeezed blood from the wound as he called for Crowley in Latin. When he tossed the lit match down, the flame hissed and snapped but there was no sign of anything else. Stillness and not a hint of a demon about to burst in, let alone a King of the Crossroads.

"Cas," Dean muttered as he set the switchblade down. "I hope you're paying attention because I doubt he'll be thrilled when he gets here."

"You're bloody right I'm not." Crowley's voice was loud and grating in the small room and they both spun to see him coming in out of the bathroom. He looked like his body was smoking still and he dusted off his silk jacket furiously. "I just had this cleaned. What the hell is the big idea?"

"Well, uh." Sam backed off as the demon stalked toward them. Small as his meatsuit was, they made sure to put some distance between them. Everything about the furious look on his face screamed that he was ready to rip them apart.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't rip your spines out and use them to play fetch with my dogs."

"Come on, Crowley," Dean said playfully as he grinned. "Not happy to see us?"

"I was busy. I do have things to take care of, a partner in Hell to make think I am on her side so she doesn't have her own army attack me, and a bottle of the best Scotch with my name on it that I feel I've earned. You two are hardly what I need in my life. The last time we dealt with each other, there was betrayal galore and you two insipid bastards caused the angels to go to war against Hell and for what? A few measly souls you felt bad for?"

Dean rolled his eyes at the rant.

"So if we aren't going to have a chit chat, let's get on with the spine ripping." Crowley took two strides forward, enjoying the way both Winchesters backed off from him. Years had passed but he was sure they'd been expecting him to act meeker after everything that had been taken from him. After…

He was yanked to a stop by the trap limiting him. He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.

"Bastards."

"All these years and you still fall for it, eh? Still can't get out of that trap." Dean grinned. "So much for a big tough demon."

"Well, not a big one," Sam interrupted.

"Oh, short jokes from the Moose. Very classy." Crowley sighed and did a slow turn around the circle. He looked disgusted by the modest motel room. "So what brings the complimentary reach around? Wanting to add a third to your dynamic duo again? I should tell you, boys." He turned and his eyes turned red for a flash. "I may be up for that."

Both men didn't bother to hide their revulsion but it was the sudden flutter of wings that kept them from having to answer.

"I asked them to," Castiel said, voice gruff but soft from the doorway.

The demon backed off a step but recovered, cocking his hip to the side and crossing his arms over his chest to try to seem bored. But his dark eyes stayed fixed on the angel and when Sam looked closer, he saw his jaw actually ticking. Castiel still frightened him.

"Cassie. The reach around just got so much kinkier. I know you were into demons in the past but I'm not sure I'm your type." He grinned, baring his teeth viciously. "After all, I'm a salesman, not a whore."

The angel said nothing to the barb and his silence agitated Crowley enough that he stopped grinning.

"Like I told the boys, I have things to do. Why the summons?"

Castiel cut past the snarkiness Dean would have used on Crowley to get to what he wanted. "Hell isn't taking in souls. It's resisting them. Why?"

"That's it? You're concerning yourselves with the politics of the Pit? Sweet Hell, you must be hard up for some meaning to your otherwise meaningless existence." He closed his eyes and then shrugged, as if deciding it wasn't worth hiding. "Bullocks, not like you'll let me leave if I don't tell you. What the hell? Not like it actually matters."

Both hunters gave him an annoyed look at his rambling. "Any time today, Crowley," Dean prompted.

"If you must know, there's been a major security problem." Crowley's eyes snapped to Sam. "Caused by the big moose."

"Me? I've not been in Hell for years." The younger Winchester took a seat on the low dresser and met Dean's concerned look. "Not since…"

"Oh yes, since saving the gorgeous Bobby Singer, I know. But you forgot to do something, didn't you? You left something in plain sight."

Both Castiel and Dean glanced at him but Sam shrugged. "You got me. I didn't take anything with me really."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "It is what you did, you moron. You found that little shortcut through Purgatory. Which, kudos for you. Centuries none of us but maybe one or two would know about that. Yet you got lucky. Isn't that just peachy?"

Sam clued in immediately. "The door from Purgatory to Hell."

"Bingo, Moose. Only took you long enough to catch on."

"Wait, so Hell won't take souls because of Purgatory?" He gave the demon a confused look. "Like a big leak or something?"

"Something like that. Except the leak is monsters, into Hell. Monsters happy to invade and cause some problems for my kind. Hard to do good business when dead monsters start chowing down on the human souls I need on my side."

"I would have thought they'd work with you," Dean cut in. Crowley made a face.

"We may have something they take offense to. The Alphas at the least."

Castiel looked at both men and then at Crowley. "Eve. They have Eve's body."

"Their beloved mother is still in residence there, yes. All corpse-like and twitchy. Very twitchy." Crowley grinned at their open confusion and his eyes fixed on Castiel. "You remember our working together, I'm sure. What it was like when I was experimenting on her."

Both Dean and Castiel flinched but the angel didn't answer.

"Part of the reason why my own men are sealing off parts of Hell. They find her body, I don't doubt they could do some damage with what she has cooking in there."

The cryptic phrasing made Castiel stare harder at him, trying to see what he could mean. But he was already taunting the Winchesters again and ignoring him.

"Sealing off the souls from going to the Pit makes no sense. Didn't think Hell could."

"There are certain procedures, Dean. Bargains to strike with Death. He was oddly interested." Crowley was well aware that Castiel was staring at him but to irritate him he was grinning at the humans.

"But why? After last year, I'd think you guys could use all the demons you could get."

Castiel finally moved to stand just in front of Crowley. "Because demons take time. Torture and time to change. The souls likely would never get to Hell before possibly being taken into Purgatory. That gives the monsters more ammunition. Or worse… a way out of there using the human souls as transport. Dean, you remember."

Dean glanced at the arm he'd carried Benny through in. Human souls might be a different thing for a monster to try to leap into but nothing was impossible. He knew that too well.

"Aren't we all smart?" Crowley gave them a sarcastic slow clap. "So that's the info, boys. Learn something."

Sam's hand tightened around the knife but when he looked at Dean his brother shook his head, just a little. Whether they liked it or not, Crowley had been one of the better sources of information in the past few years. Sighing, he got onto the chair and carved into the circle. Crowley made no move to leave and stared at Castiel until the angel looked back at him.

"So, you might say that it is in Heaven's best interest to help the demons."

Castiel's grin was cool. "Why would we do that? You have your own troubles, we have ours."

"Can you really handle all the wicked souls? Create another Hell? Or better yet, deal with a Hell where monsters gain control of the terrible… terrible things, the terrible Archangel that are caged within it? If they find their dear mother, for example, and find a way of reviving her?"

"Get out of here before I change my mind about letting you live," Castiel said, knowing Crowley had done that deliberately. To place doubt in the Winchesters and himself. He knew what Heaven was capable of and he let that thought keep him from smiting the demon. "I don't have time for you, Crowley.

"Oh we've got oodles and I would love to catch up." Ignoring the way they staggered around him, as if ready to pounce and slit his throat, Crowley smirked at Castiel. Focussed every bit of venomous concern into his voice so it came out soft and wheedling. "So, Cassie. Still missing the wife and kid eh? World still feeling incomplete without your little abominations at your side?"

The angel barely moved, but standing so close to him Dean could feel the sudden tension go through him.

"Get out of here, Crowley," Sam warned.

"Stow it, Moose. You know, not everyone believes dear Meg was killed. Or that the child died as well when the Lethe closed. We all felt it close so it made sense but…" Crowley gave an almost too casual wave of the hand. "I know I don't believe it anymore. Something fishy about that story. Now that I have had actually time to consider it, it is too simple. Too easy. My guess is you hid the bitch and the bastard."

When Castiel didn't say anything, Dean stepped forward. "We saw it happen."

"Sure you did. Like you and dear Sam here wouldn't do anything to help him. Family means so much to you after had Castiel followed for a while but never saw a thing. But I still think there is more to this story." Crowley made a show of buffing his nails on his sleeves. "You see, it is more than just rumour. The monsters in Purgatory, as base and animalistic as they are, are a rather religious sort as well; even to them, a nephilim demon would be interesting. And the demons would be stupid not to think that a different type of Cambion would be of use. A weapon against the angels."

His grin was white and wide. "It does call for more research, doesn't it?"

Before Castiel could stop him, he was gone.

* * *

It was a tense hour as they cleaned up the motel room and made sure for the hundredth time that they weren't about to be attacked by Crowley's personal demons for summoning him. But the motel had been quiet. The whole town was on edge since the monster had showed up and the streets were empty when they left the motel to check supplies.

"I don't like this," Castiel whispered as he watched the Winchesters go through the Impala carefully, looking for hexbags or anything a demon could have stashed on them.

"What's to like?" Dean adjusted the bags in the trunk and turned around to face him. "Crowley knows something. Big deal. I don't care about Crowley but the other stuff? That's freak out worthy."

Castiel acted as if he hadn't heard him. "If the demons are at war, the angels may have to interfere. And then there is the matter of the monsters."

"Come to think of it," Dean said, staring at his brother. "Monsters have been a little more in your face lately."

"Yeah for a while there they were pretty quiet. Under the radar."

"Still are but this new one… I mean they don't often move into new territories, you know?"

Sam let the trunk fall shut and leaned back on it. "Maybe something is going on. But still, a lot of the time, monsters and demons can work together if they have a common enemy."

"That's what concerns me," Castiel interrupted. Both men looked at Castiel and he stared back unblinkingly. "I know you think we won the War but we were lucky. The demons were not happy to be on the losing side yet again. If the monsters are in Hell through Purgatory, it may be that we have a very large problem on our hands. If they manage to put aside their hatreds long enough to work together, I'm not sure even Heaven could do much to stop them."

"Especially if Leviathan get involved," Sam agreed.

"If we're lucky, they won't bother. You said the entry was to the centre. Not close to where we used to see the Leviathan but I don't like this either way."

Dean clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Got a point. Monsters and Demons together at once can be a problem. Let's just hope that the demons close that door soon."

"I don't think the demons will work with monsters," Sam said. "Wouldn't make sense. There's too much history between them. Almost as bad as angels and demons."

The angel nodded to both of them. "I will go to Heaven and see if anyone has heard of anything. There is still some restructuring going on there."

"What, angel soldiers getting made into paper pushers? Five days from retirement, that sort of deal?"

Castiel glared at Dean. "I understood that."

"I knew I had him watch all those Lethal Weapons for a reason," Dean said, nudging Sam with his shoulder. They both looked up to see him dusting off his coat sleeves, a sign he was likely to leave. "Cas, it's not just the monsters that's bothering you."

"Of course it is. I don't want another War. My family are recovering from the last one." _And I am still not welcome with them often, _he thought bitterly. So much blame was still there, even after all this time.

He turned around and Sam cleared his throat. "Cas."

When he glanced over his shoulder, Sam's weary eyes were locked on his face. "You know the monsters in Hell might just be a trick. A distraction. I think that that someone could be trying to find Meg and Nyx."

Unlike before, this time there was a visible flinch that ran right across his face, as if Sam had struck him.

Sam continued, ignoring the glare he was getting. "We all know that the demons and angels were interested in them when they thought they were alive. If they suspect we faked their deaths, then they're in danger."

"As long as they remain hidden, they will be in no danger." As if that was final, he stepped backwards away from Sam.

Dean crossed his ankles and leaned back against the shining black Impala. "Cas, buddy… it's been over three years. I thought Death told you three years. They can't stay hidden forever. Maybe it's time we do something more."

"Yes, well, he likely lied to me. It seems that happens frequently," Castiel answered bitterly. "They are safe. We made them safe. That is all I can want."

Dean put his hands in the air and walked off a few steps. Knowing he was upset, Sam looked around at Castiel who was watching his friend thoughtfully.

"Cas." He fidgeted when that icy gaze fixed on him. "I get wanting to keep them safe. I get it. But maybe it's time to go back. I think you might need them."

"Meg was forced to forget what she is and who I am. Nyx was too young to remember. They don't need me there and it would only complicate things. What I need is irrelevant," Castiel snapped. "Why would you even think that?"

"Because I worry that you're going to become the angel we first met. Except you might end up being worse off for it."

The look he was shot let Sam know he had overstepped his bounds with him. Their friendship had become shaky lately as secrets and exhaustion had nearly driven them all apart. Even now, back to where they'd nearly begun, things had not been the same between the three.

"I just wish you could rethink this," Sam whispered and Castiel looked away.

"I need to go. Tell Dean I will be in touch."

Sam shook his head and closed his eyes as the angel disappeared in a whirl of wind. His heart ached, literally, and shakily he rubbed at his chest. When he opened them again, Dean was waiting for him patiently. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine."

"Don't lie, Sam. We both know that doesn't work anymore." Dean tapped his head. "I can read you easy."

Sam grinned to cover up his discomfort. It had been a phantom pain and it was easy to ignore. "Like when you say you're going for a beer and it turned out you were singing at the karaoke bar?"

"One time, and you won't let me forget that."

"Was worth it for when you sang "Don't Stop Believing" and had the bar treating you like a rock star."

"Anyway!" Dean stopped him curtly. "What are we gonna do?"

"Hunt this monster?" Sam offered and Dean stared at him. Even though neither of them liked leaving mid-way through a case, they both had the feeling that if they didn't something was about to go wrong. Garth would be annoyed but he'd learned not to ask questions when the Winchesters said there were even bigger problems at hand. There would be another pair of hunters up here in a day if they called.

"You want to go see them, don't you?"

Dean nodded. "I don't trust Crowley not to figure something out. If he thinks they're alive, then it could be others do as well. Monsters or demons. Not to mention the angels. Not all of them were thrilled with what Castiel did to send them back to Heaven. If they're desperate enough, then we've got a big big problem."

"Well, we have our hexbags and some warding spells in my journal I can use. They're a few days out. What if Cas catches on?" Sam waved his hand at the air. "He has a habit of showing up still."

"I think he's avoiding this. Took him a long time to get over it."

"Do you really think he did, Dean? Would you if you lost someone you loved? Like it or not, we both know what he felt for Meg. Or could you get over losing a child?"

Dean looked uncomfortable. "No. You got a point. What do you want to do?"

"Check in on them. We haven't been there in months, maybe they won't even notice us."

His brother actually seemed relieved. "I'll go pay the bill. You get the bags together."

Sam nodded and watched Dean walk off to the motel office. When he was out of sight, he slumped down and coughed harshly. A spittle of blood stained his lips, just enough that he when he wiped it away his fingertips were red. His hands shook as he stared at it and then up at the Impala. Three years of health, even with that strange but incredible connection with Dean, and now… now he felt tired. Not sick, not yet anyway. It was a weird feeling though; as if he wasn't feeling all the pain he could be feeling.

Not wanting to worry his brother, he wiped at his mouth and quickly slipped into the car. As he watched Dean come back from the office, he began to rummage through the glove compartment to find the hexbags and grabbed the map to Arkansas.

"Going to be a hell of a long drive," he muttered as he unfolded the map and eyed the familiar route.

* * *

_The bar was dark and poorly lit, the air smoky with a hint of whiskey and beer in its odour. A jazz musician was singing low and sultry to the crowd as women in sequins and men in fine suits swayed to the band. Something out of an old movie, the way they sedately moved and laughed as if actually happy. _

_Sitting cross legged at the bar, she turned her eyes to the mirror overhead. Saw herself and, though her skin was darker with her hair in a gorgeous crop of black ringlets and her eyes amber brown, she knew it was her. How she knew didn't make sense; she didn't look like this. _

_But she knew who she was and she was this woman. Or at least, she was inside this body and it belonged to her for now._

_A man in a white suit took a seat next to her and set down a glass of wine. "Did you find him?"_

_She turned and looked at him, her shapeless dress with its lacing and beads shimmering in the light. "Who?" she asked, bewildered by his arrival._

"_That Man of Letters, the one I told you to find. He needs to be stopped." At her blank stare, he gripped her arm tight, his craggy face pulled tight in a frown. He shook her hard enough her teeth rattled in her skull. "You are one of my second in commands. You should know to follow orders better or I will release a Knight to take care of this problem myself. It might take a few years but she'll find him just fine. You are slipping up, daughter."_

"_A knight?"_

_**What the hell was wrong with this dream?**_

"_You screwed up last time, letting Crowley take that Campbell boy on a deal. We have limited time and he doesn't know the plans. Fix this." The hands twisted her about on her seat and yellow eyes stared down at her. "Or I will forget I call you daughter and give you back to Alastair. Again."_

_She opened her mouth to scream as those yellow eyes came closer and closer._

Her head jerked around on the pillow as she immediately snapped out of the nightmare.

Nightmares. Meg had never liked having them or even those irregular dreams where nothing bad and nothing pleasant ever happened. For what she could remember, she had never had a dead, dreamless sleep, and she slept infrequently anyway. She was used to an insomnia that no pills could fix and the few hours she managed to get wouldn't help. Everyday she should feel exhausted by it but there was no cure for it.

When her eyes finally opened, instead of a yellow eyed gaze threatening to harm her, there were two large blue eyes just hovering close by. Familiar blue eyes. Groaning, she rolled to her side a little, saw the red numbers on her tiny clock, and pulled her blanket over her head.

"Five more minutes."

A child pounced and she felt two hands dig into the blanket. "Promised!"

"It is one in the morning." Half-heartedly, Meg tried to fight it but the blanket was pulled down and a cherub face stared seriously down at her. "Nyxie."

"Promised!"

Meg and the girl stared at each other for a few seconds and finally she took in a deep breath. "Fine. Go get Clarence and we'll go."

With a squeal of delight, the little girl took off and disappeared into the hall. Rubbing at her eyes, Meg sat up and shuddered at how cold she felt. Her gaze fell on the bottle of pills on the table. Medication wasn't doing her any good still. She knew she might have collapsed into a seizure before that dream. Her tongue was sore from a bite and her head ached, that woozy feeling not leaving her.

She should just go back to bed.

But that would disappoint Nyx and she'd learned not to do that.

Moving quietly through her still dark room, she dressed and found a heavy coat for herself, taking the time to check the locks on her windows. An old habit she didn't quite understand made her pocket her switchblade as well. She made sure to move softly. All she needed was to wake the other people in the old house and if Nyx got excited then the whole house would be woken up by her chatter.

Once she had zipped up her boots, she stared at her pale hands and had that odd feeling she had felt for three years now. That they belonged to someone else, that she wasn't real. That she was meant to be something else. Closing her eyes again, she steadied herself and quickly grabbed her flask from the night-table drawer.

When she stood up, a tiny body flew over her bed and wrapped around her legs. Clinging tight and refusing to let go even when she tried to walk a few steps. Meg grinned down at the blue eyes flashing up at her, framed by messy brunette waves. _Her father's eyes,_ she thought and then shook her head. That was stupid. She didn't know that for fact, just assumed it since her own eyes were so dark.

"Got him, kid?" she asked and Nyx nodded, reaching into her own heavy coat and showing her the stuffed unicorn. Patched up repeatedly because Nyx insisted on taking it everywhere with her and that meant it was dragged, battered, ripped but ultimately well loved, its black beaded eyes stared lifelessly up at her. The sight of those black eye made Meg uncomfortable as they always did.

"Gonna be cold!" Nyx said as Meg pulled a child's cabby hat over her abundance of dark hair.

"Got that right, baby girl. Must be the rain coming in. Come on." She swung her up into her arms, listening to her giggles. After pulling her toy up beside them, Nyx rested contentedly against her as Meg left the rear of the house for the yard. Two porch chairs had been dragged out to the middle of the garden and, ignoring Nyx's nonsensical chatter, Meg took a seat on one of the old chairs. Strung up on the trellis surrounding the patio, the LD lights cast a blue glow over their matching pale skin and let her clearly see Nyx's excitement. She squirmed on her lap while they both looked up at the starry sky.

"Gonna see one?" Nyx demanded, pointing at the starry sky.

"Maybe."

Nyx's fascination with falling stars, and the way the lights would shoot across the darkness, had made this a weekly habit for them since last year. They didn't always see one but she knew every Thursday they would come out to watch the sky. Meg pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked up as well.

"Why do you like the stars so much, Nyxie?" she asked like she did every Thursday.

"Pretty."

"Yeah, I guess." Meg shivered as a tiny light flashed across the sky. "You know what the guys in town say? They are angels falling."

Nyx rolled her blue eyes comically. "Silly. Angels fly."

"Maybe they lose their wings," her mother said and Nyx gave a childish gasp. When she looked down the girl's eyes were so big and shiny that Meg realized she was about to burst into tears. "It's just a story, Nyx."

"Don't like that story." She rubbed at her face tiredly and hugged Clarence the unicorn tighter.

"Never do," Meg muttered and she held her close. "What stories do you want to hear?"

But Nyx was ignoring her, eyes only on the stars. Meg watched her fascinated look, the way her mouth went slack as she set about trying to count the stars like she always did, counting in fives over and over again. When a light streaked across the sky, likely a plane though Meg said nothing, she was so excited Meg had had to hold her still. She forgot her own strange nightmare and simply waited patiently until Nyx fell asleep counting the stars when no more of them fell. Even then, she stayed out till nearly dawn, letting her daughter sleep in her arms and wondering like she always did why the darkness didn't bother her so much as the light.

* * *

He had changed his favourite place from Chicago to the East Coast when he decided to make his presence more known. Not much for explanations, it was more out of a need for different scenery than a desire to trade in a fabulous deep dish pizza for ripe seafood. Night time was still his favourite time to be out and he found a particularly nice, classy restaurant in Halifax to try. It served excellent lobster.

His presence, of course, could be why Halifax's sudden rise in fatalities would have to be explained away by the government as unfortunate and also unexplainable.

Breaking apart a choice section of lobster, Death looked into the beady eyes of the boiled crustacean thoughtfully. A part of him toyed with the idea of bringing it back to life but dismissed that as too cruel. He was a realist, after all, and one of the most powerful beings in this existence. Such things should be beneath his cruelty.

"If you ask me," he said to the lobster, tapping it with his fork. "You haven't missed much. Others have to live for years and then be trapped. At least you were raised in a tank and never knew freedom."

Unlike humans who ate so noisily with their fingers, the entity speared a juicy slice of lobster and popped it into his mouth.

"Rather like the majority of players in this dreadful game," he said once he finished chewing. He eyed the dead waitress at his feet and then reached for his glass of wine. "Isn't that right, Castiel?"

The shadows shifted, as he expected they would, and the angel stepped out into glow of the candlelight. Death took a long sip as he watched the vessel of the angel. Perhaps his time as a human had aged the vessel a little, the look of weariness was less a mask and more of a physical attribute. Death had watched the past three years with the sort of amusement similar to a vulture watching a dying animal slowly give in to the inevitable. Then he had waited, just a little longer because he needed to. Just to see what happened as well.

Judging by Castiel's expression, it had been worth it.

"It has been a while. How did you find me?"

"I just waited for a town to start experiencing more fatalities than normal," Castiel answered as he took a seat across from Death. The entity grinned ghoulishly at him and reached over to pour him a glass of wine. He actually took the glass, causing Death to arch his eyebrows.

"I see being human for a time caused you to indulge in some habits." When the angel made no answer, he continued to eat in silence, pausing now and then to take a drink. That Castiel let him eat in near silence made it clear the angel had learned patience. When he finally looked up, he was being stared at. "So why are you here? A social visit?"

"I waited. I watched and I waited. Now…"

"Ah yes, the soul war in Hell. Quite entertaining. I never thought to see such a thing. But of course you can understand I cannot have my people take the souls there either because it would just be wrong to let the monsters pervert those souls as well. It is bad enough the new kinds of monsters could be created. Quite by accident, of course." Death dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.

"That's not what I'm talking about," Castiel whispered, his tone hard with tension. Death let his fork clatter on the plate and he folded his hands under his chin thoughtfully.

"Spit it out then."

He saw him nervously turn the glass stem between two fingers. "Why did you have me wait three years?"

"Why not? There were reasons. I gave you several good ones."

"Recently, I have begun to wonder if they were good enough."

Death tilted his head. "So this is about your demon and your child. I should have known."

"It has been nearly four years." Castiel took a deep breath and exhaled it out, calming himself. "Why did you make me wait? What was it worth? Part of me wanted to find them when I became a human. I needed them then."

"I find so little to amuse me." Death gave him too casual of a look. "And I made you wait, told you to make a choice because you needed to. Can you imagine, Castiel, if you had been made human and found them again? They would be killed eventually. Or when you first regained your Grace? They may have meant nothing to you then. Or you would have done something foolish. As you always do."

"That's not true," Castiel said and Death smirked, clearly thinking otherwise. Knowing he could have been a pawn made his temper, usually held in check, start to escape his control. "All of this was for fun?"

"Hardly. One day you will realize that there were reasons, ones beyond the need to protect them both. It is necessary for your daughter to believe herself human, for even a short period of time."

Castiel looked at the black tablecloth. "I don't understand."

"How did your perspective change, Castiel, when you realized what it was to be human?" Death questioned and he saw him stiffen up in understanding. "You learn fast."

Castiel shakily took a long drink of wine before he closed his eyes, rubbing at his scruffy jaw with his other hand. Death watched him curiously, still resembling a vulture with the intense way he stared. There always had been something different about Castiel and even after all these years it was still remarkably clear that that hadn't changed.

"What would you do if you could bring her back?"

"Anything," Castiel blurted out and then he stopped himself, his jaw clicking with how fast he closed his mouth.

"It would be a great risk."

"To them, I know, and I could not…"

"Not just to them. But it will be riskier to let them live in darkness. Sooner or later, both of them will wake up. Whether you want them to or not."

"But that's not the same, not anymore. They won't be any safer now. If the monsters grow aware of them, if the demons or angels…"

"You can be so obtusely wrong about things, Castiel, it is almost comical." The angel glared at him furiously and Death shrugged. "Mm hmm, you aren't totally wrong. Your daughter is quite special. Then again, so is the demon. Perhaps, Castiel, you won't have the choice anyway."

"What do you mean?"

Death smiled wanly "What do you think?"

"Nyx will almost be four, Meg… Meg will have forgotten…"

"You buried the demon, thanks to the coins of Lethe, but it won't kill the demon nor does it hide what Meg really is. Spells break down, eventually; with enough time and pressure. True faces never fade. Nothing is final. Walls crack as memories push to the surface. Creation continues on." He leaned back a little. "Something your Father knows well and something Sheol knows as well."

The name he had not heard in so long made Castiel stare at him. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing you can possibly understand, Castiel. When I said three years, I did not mean I would be helping _you. _Your choices are ultimately your own." Death's smile was thin and almost sly. "Free will, as you may recall."

Before Castiel could react, Death snapped his fingers and sent him back home.

* * *

Heaven was a quiet place after the angels returned. Even with having to now juggle souls meant for Hell and not Heaven, the souls that belonged still thought it was a place of near tranquility. It was what it was before the Apocalypse; souls fading in and out of their personal heavens, enjoying their reward for devout or good lives. Only a few remembered what had happened earlier.

So much had changed and yet no soul seemed to be able to care. The angels that guarded and shepherded them remained restless but thankful to be there. After the Lethe, after times spent on Earth or in Hell, Heaven was its Paradise namesake. There they were starting to rebuild their own garrisons. Limited numbers suddenly being bolstered by the returning angels who had stayed on Earth or in Hell to finish what they'd begun.

After Death had sent him back, Castiel sat in the eternal Tuesday morning he enjoyed so much and felt nothing. No warmth from the false sun and no serenity from the calm park. As he plucked at the grass with his fingers and watched the autistic man fly a kite, he tried to feel peace.

But his mind was fixed on what Death had said.

_What if he had given them up years ago for nothing but a lesson about choice?_

As furious as it made him, he forced himself to think about it carefully. The past three years had been hard, not only on him but on Sam and Dean, on Kevin Tran, on even the few allies they had left. Castiel wasn't even certain where Kevin was. The Prophet had slowly lost fragments of his old self until he was a shell and he now wandered for 'answers'. Answers to what Castiel wasn't even certain. There had been so much death and pain.

Could he have lived with himself if Meg or Nyx had been subjected to that? Meg could handle herself as a demon but Nyx…

_What if he had lost them?_

Shaking his head, Castiel stood up and straightened his coat.

"Castiel. I had heard you were back."

He turned at that soft greeting to face Michael. Or what had been Michael. With only a trace of Grace left, no angel knew if he was really an angel or if he was nothing more than a glorified human. What was worse was that no one knew what to do with him. Michael had been one of the few unaffected by the Fall. One of the few to not care. To not fight.

It wasn't that he was a pacifist like Castiel had tried to be.

There was something else more cunning, more devious, in Michael than Grace and the one-time Sword of God. Something that unsettled every angel but no one knew why. There were so few of them left that no angel wanted to interrogate him; they all needed each other, they were all family. Castiel never liked being close to him. Since Meg's faked 'death' they had needed no time together. But now he was standing there, looking at him with a sedated grin.

"Why are you here?" Michael asked as he stood across from him. Still wearing Adam Milligan's face, something Castiel found disturbing.

"I came home."

"So I see." Michael turned a slow circle and sighed. "But why? You have been so devoted either to the Winchesters or to keeping Hell in line lately. Or did you have news of Metatron?"

"I chose to let him go," Castiel snapped. "I've not followed him."

"Mm." Michael snapped his fingers and a park bench appeared for him to sit on. "There are others on the Earth who have not returned home. The most dangerous being Sandalaphon. Metatron's twin. Where, oh where, could she be?"

"We have too few of us left to hunt those who don't want to come home. Some of the angels loved Earth."

"And you? Do you still love such a place?"

Not wanting to start this again, Castiel shook his head and started to walk away.

"Or is it just the Winchesters tying you there? You should be taking on more duties here, Castiel, as a captain of an army, and you would still be able to spend time with your human pets. Yet you wander that Earth as if hoping for something more." Michael grinned when he saw the angel stiffen up. "Or someone."

It was easier to walk away than to answer him.

Michael watched him disappear down the park path and smiled to himself. It had been a long wait, he thought, his eyes flickering between bright blue and amber yellow so quickly that it seemed like a trick of the light. He grinned. Long waits were worth it for them.

* * *

Heber Springs was a tiny Arkansas town. It saw its large share of tourist activity when things went well but many would barely notice it other months of the year. It was just a spot on the map for people.

It had been perfect at the time. Just enough to keep them from being noticed

After dropping Dean off at the bar to get a drink and chat up the locals for any news, Sam continued on to a small Bed and Breakfast on the outside of town, where he knew he could get a few rooms for the night for cheap. Or for free, if he was lucky and she was in the right mood. He checked the street signs as he went and followed the country roads as best as he could until he came to a place just at the outskirts. The old house was barely a standout but it had worked out for her. Well-tended, comfortable, tiny, and out of the way.

Perfect.

When he pulled in, she was already standing at the door, solemnly staring at him as she usually did.

Linda Tran rarely smiled when she saw the Winchesters anymore. She went by Linda still, though she changed her last name frequently to avoid being found by anyone looking for her. She was a familiar face in the middle of nowhere and there were days where both Winchesters were glad to have her on their side. Still, sometimes it was up in the air if she actually liked them at all.

When Sam got out of the Impala and climbed the steps, her arms were folded over her chest and he wisely only said hello before cringing and waiting for it.

"Where is he now?" she demanded instead of being polite.

"We don't know. He… he was in Nevada."

"Doing what?" She refused to move out of the way and he knew he was going to be interrogated until he gave her the answers she wanted.

"Learning the Word of God was what he told us. Kevin is a prophet, remember?" Sam asked, the long drive and his own exhaustion making him feel edgy. But her lips tightened in to a thin line and he knew immediately that that had been the wrong thing to say. "Look, Linda…"

"He is only a prophet, only a hunter, because of you two! He came back a few months ago and you know what he did when he was here? He slept. For three days without moving. Then when I went to take him food, he was gone. Emptied out my cash box, left a note saying he was looking for answers, and he was gone. When he called, he said that he was cursed. That he had to find the answers to everything."

Though that was new, Sam stared at her, seeing under the hard mask she wore. Seeing the worry and the fear. She tried so hard to be strong that sometimes she had to fight to hide how afraid she was for her only child. Kevin wasn't the only one who had changed since he had met the Winchesters. Linda was still strong, still a fighter, but she was tired as well. Tired of hiding.

"He had a rough few years. Having to keep your secret… hell, having to keep everyone's secrets. I don't blame him for wanting to be alone." She took in a shuddering breath. "I just wish he'd remember that I'm here for him."

Reaching out, Sam squeezed her shoulder for comfort. All at once she lost that sad expression and resumed that stern look he knew. Used on him and Dean, it was almost motherly. "So. You want to stay the night?"

"If you have room."

"Always do. Thank God I'm doing bookkeeping as well online or I wouldn't have any money coming into the place. Where's Dean?" she asked, looking at the Impala.

"In town, looking for some information."

"Oh?" She walked in ahead of him and he took in the warm feeling of the house happily. He spied a few child's toys stacked in the front foyer as she continued to talk. "Why are you guys here?"

"Vacation."

She spun around and thumped him on the chest. "Don't lie to me, Sam Winchester. Why are you here?"

He blushed a bit under her scrutiny. "We think Crowley's men are going to start looking for them. There's been trouble in Heaven and Hell and there's been enough distraction but…"

"He's figuring it out."

"Slowly. We have some time." Sam closed the door and followed her into the living room. Well decorated and pristine, even here felt homey and welcoming. She did like to make each place her home, so it was no wonder that Dean liked coming here. "I'm not sure how he'd figure it out really but knowing Crowley it's possible"

He sighed, wondering if he should have done more. "We should have changed their names."

"Wouldn't have done you any good," Linda said. "One thing she remembered was her name and Nyx's. You can't take everything away from them."

"But…"

"Six degrees of Separation, remember?" Linda asked. "Something is going to happen. You and I both know that eventually something is going to break. Some coincidence, some slip of the tongue."

Sam nodded and sat on the couch as she sat on the old recliner. "How are they?"

"She's the same as always. Suffering on the inside but she thinks she is hiding it. Did… did you or Dean ever tell Castiel what the spell did to her? The side-effects? "

"No. He's never asked. I think it could break him apart to know and he had so much to worry about. Is she better?"

"It is getting worse. Seizures, flashbacks, and she's taking a lot of sleep medication but nothing works. She's accepted the insomnia as normal. I keep her away from doctors as best as I can. She knows something is wrong but without any real memory, she just gives up trying sometimes." Linda sighed and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. The worry was clear on her face, almost the same worry she'd shown for Kevin.

"You really like her, huh?" Sam asked, a bit baffled. Castiel caring for a demon hadn't been that absurd to him but that a human woman, who barely knew Meg before, to show any signs of caring seemed very strange.

Linda opened her eyes and stared at him accusingly. "Not that I think you'll understand, Sam, but she was the only one not interested in using Kevin. Or me. She's been a good friend and I hate to see her suffering."

He flinched and looked at his hands. "What about Nyx?"

Linda actually smiled when he looked back up. "She's growing. She's happy here. Though sometimes I think she sees a lot more than any of us realize. No signs of powers, no memories, not much about her to say she is any different than a human. She just plays, talks to her imaginary friends, stargazes with Meg sometimes. That's it. She's a beautiful little girl. Calls me Auntie a lot."

"Has she…"

"No." She cut him off before he could ask if she had dreamt anything. "Nothing she cries about. Sometimes I check on them at night and Meg will be sitting up with her, but I'm not sure if that is because she thinks she has to protect her or because Nyx had a nightmare." When she noticed him looking around, she gave him an impatient look. "She's at the babysitter's today so she won't be back till late."

"Babysitter?" Sam frowned. "Why would Meg…"

"Because she's a single mother who had to get a job in town doing whatever it is she could to earn extra money. And to have a life. A young girl down the way takes her to the park and lets her play if Meg is busy." Linda glanced at the clock. "Knowing Meg, she'll be headed to the bar. She's been earning some money bar-tending. Josh, the owner, likes to cut out early before he works the night-shift."

"She likes it?"

"No. She hates it. You know Meg. People and her don't often get along, whether she was demon or acting like a human. But money is money and what else she does on the side to get extra cash is her business." Linda watched Sam stand up. "Where are you going?"

"Back to town. Dean is there and I get this feeling that something is going to happen."

"You and Dean are still connected, huh?" She followed him to the front door and leaned against it as he jogged down the steps. "Is the after-burn from that spell giving you that ESP thing again?"

Sam fixed his collar and shrugged. "Something like that."

"Well, I'll be in later. If I'm not here, you know where the key is."

He saluted her jokingly and missed her affectionate chuckle as she disappeared back into the house. Instead of leaving, the minute he sat in the car he rested his head on the steering wheel and sighed. Hearing about Kevin slipping away, about Meg's own struggles, was to him just a sign that after three years everything that had gone wrong was likely to just get worse.

"How can it get worse?" he asked the rearview reflection of himself as he grabbed his phone. "Right. It can always get worse."

* * *

Smokey bars were always a favourite of his, even in the middle of the afternoon, and being one of the only people there made Dean's day better. As he went through the newspaper while nursing a beer, he slowly came down from the exhaustion of driving the long hours to get here. He liked this bar and the low music and drizzle of rain outside was comforting. Cheap beer, decent eye-candy when the night was right, and above all, it was quiet. Except for a man standing outside shouting about the End of Days and who had pointed at him and called him a Righteous Man.

Worst reference he'd heard in a while.

The low buzz of his cellphone caught his attention and he checked his text message to see Sam's warning. Raising his eyebrows, he cast a quick look around and saw no one he recognized. Maybe that was for the best. He just wanted some peace and quiet, even though he knew it couldn't last.

He tried to ignore how sitting with his back to the door made him feel exposed. He needed to be out of here soon once Sam showed up. It was easier to fly under the radar than get exposed. Then to be recognized right now. It was bad enough the bartender knew him from the infrequent days they spent here to rest on their way back home. The few nights they spent here to be sure Meg wasn't being exposed and Castiel's daughter was still safe.

He was mid-sip when he heard an all too familiar flutter beside him that meant only trouble right now. Dean choked on his beer hard enough that his throat burned from it and he had to cough it up before he could breathe again. Wiping at the beer dribbling from his lips, he continued to cough and turned in his seat to see Castiel sitting next to him, a beer already in his hand. As if he'd been there the entire time.

"Hello, Dean."

"Where the hell did you come from?" Dean demanded and the angel gave the ceiling a pointed look. "Yeah yeah, I get it. Ask a dumb question, get a dumb "Castiel is oblivious" response."

"I thought you were still in Virginia. Hunting."

"Case fell flat. Why are you here? How did you even find me?" He tried not to sound defensive and the angel shrugged. "Right. Of course. You would be tapped into the 'crazy religious guy' wavelength."

"Actually. It was the GPS on your phone. Sam taught me that."

Dean stared at him incredulously before glancing at his phone. Cas using technology. Wonders never ceased.

"Why are you here though?" Castiel asked.

"Needed a holiday?"

"Yes, you do but you would go to the bunker for that. Or at least what is left of it." No one discussed the fire but the slow rebuilding of the part that had burnt was ongoing when they had time. At least the personal rooms and the libraries were left. The storage cellars and dungeon hadn't fared so well. "So why Heber Springs?"

Dean looked at his hands. "Because of Crowley I needed to be sure people were safe."

"People? You've had cases here?" Castiel looked around thoughtfully at the mostly dead bar. "I haven't seen that many people here. What cases have you had recently?

Dean quickly decided that playing dumb would only make this more painful than it had to be. "Meg is here, Cas. This is where we brought her. I was hoping you'd still think we were in Virginia. Not here. I didn't plan on you coming here."

He didn't dare look at the angel's face but he felt the tension go right through him. Castiel went from relaxed to board-stiff in a heartbeat. Dean saw his hand clench around the neck of his beer bottle so tight he was sure he would shatter the glass.

"Here. She's here," he whispered. Agitated, he began to look around and straightened up a little. He looked as if he expected someone to leap out and grab him. "I should go."

"You might as well stay. Have a beer because I'm not sure she'll be here anyway. Take a breather. Relax."

Castiel fidgeted and began to peel at the bottle's label. That he wanted to hit Dean was clear but he kept his hands busy instead. "I could be endangering everything. You likely have! How long have you been coming here? Knowing you could be putting her in danger. What were you thinking"

Dean decided to ignore the way Castiel glared at and accused him.

"Months, years. Every now and then we pass through. Make it look like we're just going home. I just needed to be sure everything is how it should be." Shrugging, he took another long sip before giving Castiel a glare to match his. "Someone had to."

He cleared his throat and waited for the bartender to pass before he continued.

"She helps out around the town. Not sure what she does but most of it just revolves around odd jobs around here. James Frampton hired her on a few times, asks her for help on cases when he can't risk it. He keeps a low profile now, lives in another small town close by."

"Why Meg?" Castiel demanded.

"She's good at it. We needed to find her work. Linda can't do everything herself." Dean shrugged. "No one knows about her besides me, Sam, Linda and Kevin, Cas. James doesn't know what she is. She's been able to handle the work he asks her to take care of. Usually surveillance. I told him to keep her under radar. He doesn't want me exposing him so he owes me a favour or two."

He flipped a bottle cap. "She has no social security, no real identity besides what Sam and I made up for her. We did the best we could without leaving her in a ditch. Or would you rather I did that?"

The angry edge in his voice made Castiel sigh.

"I'm not blaming you, Dean. She needed your help. This is… this is a good place for her."

Dean glanced over when he heard the familiar rumble of an old car pulling up. Knowing cars like he did, he recognized the running purr of an old Cougar and shook his head.

"You should go now, Cas."

The angel looked out the front window, confused. As he heard the car, something went over his face once he realized why Dean would want him to leave. He hesitated, ready to disappear if he had to. He'd become used to staying away that it should be easy. But even though he tried to focus, tried to fly off, something grounded him. Though he wanted to leave, he knew what it was.

Himself. In that moment he knew what he had to do when he was faced with that easy decision of staying away or seeing what three years had brought on. .

He needed to stay. He had done penance for whatever sin God had envisioned for him, had stayed away though he had grieved so long for a chance. He had waited so patiently. Absurd as it was, Castiel needed to know that she was still there. Hiding. That what he'd fought to protect hadn't died.

Eyeing the old clock on the wall, he came to a decision. One hour. He could stay just one hour.

"I'll be fine," Castiel muttered, dropping his eyes to the bar. Dean eyed him and then took a deep breath as he nodded.

"Your funeral. Here goes."

The hunter and angel both sighed and turned back to their drinks, sitting in comfortable silence for a moment and not once looking at each other. When the door jangled open, Dean glanced over to see that Castiel was tense again, hands gripped into fists on the bar. His eyes closed as he took long, steadying breaths and when he opened his eyes again he looked ready to fly off. He hadn't even turned around but every inch of him screamed fear and anticipation. The change in him was so sudden that Dean wondered if the angel was actually ready for this.

Not sure why, he grinned and looked back ahead of himself to the bar mirror.

"You're late," the bartender said as he passed them to open up the bar's swinging door. "I asked you to do me a favour but I didn't think you'd be that late."

"Had things to do," a familiar voice muttered behind them, echoed by the steady click of heels on the hardwood. "Not like you care anyway."

Castiel's head lifted and both he and Dean turned to stare at the tiny brunette walking down the bar with her back to them.

"Fucking rain." Ruffling her damp hair with one hand, she yawned and then twisted mid step to set her bag down with unusual grace. She glanced at them with a flick of her eyes but turned away as if she barely noticed them. The bartender grabbed his coat, tossed her the keys, and headed out without another word.

As the door closed again, Dean subtly checked on Castiel. The angel wasn't able to tear his eyes away from the woman in front of them to even notice the way Dean was trying to discourage him from staring at her.

Meg's body and face, everything on the surface of her stolen body, was familiar; even the slight differences weren't enough to hide that. She'd done something to her hair, cropped a bit shorter into messy waves, with dark reds dyed in, and her eyes were lined heavier as if to draw attention away from the circles beneath them. What she was wearing was nearly Meg like with the black tights hiked to her thighs and the boots up to her calf. The black t-shirt and skirt weren't out of place. The human face she'd taken seemed just as young and untouched. At first glance, no one could tell there was something different about her.

There was a strange look to her though; like she knew she didn't belong. As if all the makeup and hair dye was a cover and she was openly hiding behind a mask.

But something told Dean that she could have been wearing her real face out for everyone to see and Castiel wouldn't stop staring at her so intensely.

After fixing her necklace and putting her hair back, Meg looked around the empty place before her dark eyes came back to them. She glanced over Castiel before looking at Dean. "You're one of the guys who stays at the house right? One of James' buds. Henry, isn't it?"

Dean smiled. "That's right."

"You still shacking up with that pretty, gigantic man?"

He lost the smile. "He's my brother."

She grinned and leaned towards him. "That's what they all say." Before he could respond, she replaced his empty bottle with a full one and looked at Castiel, ready to ask him if he wanted another. When she saw him staring, she didn't seem able to speak. He watched her reaction to him, his eyes running over her face with curious intimacy and his head tilted a little to take her all in. He couldn't seem to get enough of just looking at her; he didn't blink, barely breathed. He actually relaxed when her eyes flicked over him thoughtfully, trying to see why he looked so fascinated by her.

Dean looked at the two, saw Meg's look and cleared his throat.

"Sorry, he doesn't get out much," he said for an apology, nudging him hard in the side.

"Yes.. I…" Castiel looked at the bar and had to close his eyes. "You are very… beautiful."

"Thanks, I think." Meg frowned as if his compliment was unexpected while Dean rolled his eyes.

"Weather holding out?" Dean asked to try to divert the conversation.

"Rain's coming in. Has been going on for a week now. Had some work postponed because of it." Her eyes went over to Castiel again as if she was trying to figure out who he was. "James mentioned you'd be in."

"He's been giving you work?"

"Some."

Castiel muttered to himself and then realized they were staring at him.

She ran her eyes over Castiel, trying to draw conclusions when he looked back at her.. "Look, buddy, I don't have time for drunks. Out."

Castiel shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't. Not yet."

He missed the man beside him giving another roll of his eyes and Meg simply looked confused. She opened her mouth to argue when the door chimes jangled and they heard an excited child shout.

"Mommy!"

Castiel jerked a little at the sound and Dean restrained him by his arm as a tiny blur race over around to the other side of the bar. Meg grabbed hold of the small girl who launched herself at her and swung her up into her arms. She boosted her up so she could look her in the eye.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed and looked up at a blonde teenage girl who had followed the child in.

She shrugged and cracked her gum. "Mom called. I have to go home early."

"So you brought a… three year old to a bar?" Dean asked and Meg sighed in exasperation. Almost ignoring the conversation, Castiel couldn't tear his eyes away from the tiny girl who was wrapping herself around Meg's upper body, a stuffed toy unicorn held close between them. He'd forgotten to breath around Meg and now he wasn't sure he could move a muscle in fear he might ruin this. Blue eyes held Castiel's gaze for a moment and stared shyly at him. He could only stare back, wanting to smile but suddenly not knowing how.

_Nyx._

"It's fine, Beth. Go." Meg's eyes were already on the child in her arms. "So, what did you do?"

"Nothin'." Her eyes went away from Castiel to glance at Dean.

"I know you, kiddo. What happened?"

"She's mean." Nyx glared at where the babysitter was leaving the room. "Her eyes go black. Don't like her."

"Baby, people's eyes don't go black."

Dean glanced at Castiel, nodded, and slipped off the bar stool to follow the girl out without another word. Knowing he didn't need to say anything.

Castiel barely noticed him. His eyes were on the small dark haired girl who was chattering away to her mother. Meg carried her around and the girl's head turned towards him abruptly again when she saw him still sitting close by.

She pointed at him. "Who?"

"Customer, Nyx. Remember?" Meg set her down on the counter. "Stay still, be good for two seconds. I'll call Josh and we can go home early."

The girl nodded and swung her legs, watching as Meg dug through her bag for her phone. But slowly Nyx looked over at Castiel and he could barely tear his eyes away from her.

"Hi," she whispered shyly.

Castiel looked back down at the bar and shuddered a little. She managed to scoot forward and climb over onto the stool beside him.

"You look sad."

"No. You just remind me of someone," he said and the girl tilted her head. It took her a moment to understand.

"You a daddy?"

He smiled wistfully. "Something like that."

She spun on her chair before she rose on her knees to look him in the eye. "Don't have one."

Castiel closed his eyes, feeling as if she had struck him. Her voice had been clear but he'd noticed the bit of sadness there too, something that sounded too mature for a child. Her hands went to either side of his face and his eyes popped open to stare at her, realizing she had moved to sit on the bar in front of him. She stared back, for a moment no longer just a child. Her fingers smoothed down his face, patting at his stubbled cheeks curiously.

" Nyx," she blurted out, tongue tripping over her childish lisp, and he realized she wanted him to say his name.

"Clarence," he lied as he looked into her blue eyes.

"No. You're not. You lyin'." She frowned. Reaching over the bar, she picked up her stuffed toy and held it out to him. "See. That's Clarence."

"Nyx!" Setting her phone down, Meg came back and scooped her up over the counter. "Leave him alone."

"Castiel!" Nyx declared, pointing at him. Castiel stared at her and then at Meg. She stuttered a little, her brow wrinkling as if she was struggling to remember. Then she recovered with a shrug and roll of her eyes.

"Come on, little monster, you can colour for a while and leave him alone." Swinging her daughter into a fireman's hold, Castiel listened to Nyx's loud giggling as Meg carried her to the other end of the bar. Every happy sound felt as if they were knives cutting into him and he stared at the counter, shuddering.

"Father, what have I done," he whispered. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Meg giving the little girl crayons and paper, before she went to serve two men that had come in after Dean had left. With a desperation he hadn't felt in months, he downed his beer and started on Dean's. Part of him wished he could still feel that heady numbness it should have brought. When he'd been human, it had been surprising that it had only taken one or two to get him drunk. Now? Not even a buzz.

He forced himself to drink slower, wanting to suddenly drag out the time he had allowed himself. Half an hour passed as he sat at the bar, listening to Meg talk to Nyx and sometimes ignore the flirting of the men getting drunk at the table behind him. He couldn't bring himself to lift his head. He wanted to move, to say something that could get Meg to stand in front of him and talk, even if she stared at him strangely and treated him as a drunk.

A tiny tug on his coat made him jump a little in his seat before he looked down to see Nyx standing beside him, holding her crayons and papers. She smiled and then started climbing up onto Dean's barstool beside him. He reached out to help her, worried she would fall, and she held onto his hand for a second before she was able to sit. Her small fingers clenched around his large palm and he remembered when those fingers had held one of his fingers so tight. The trust in the gesture was startling, even when she let him go.

"I drew you!" she said happily. Castiel stared at the drawing she had made. It was a stick figure with two scratchy wings and a circle meant to be a halo. Childish and in red crayon but it made him stare.

"I look like that?" he asked carefully. Did she actually see wings and a glow about him?Did he actually frown that much?

Nyx chewed on her lower lip. She looked at it then up at him thoughtfully. Her dark hair swished before her face before she nodded. Castiel took the paper and stared at it. Judging by the smaller figure in the corner of the large construction paper, she'd drawn herself as well with smoky lines.

"Can I have this?" he asked. He wasn't sure why he felt that impulse; it shouldn't be something an angel would ask for. But something in her delighted grin made him glad he had. Finally able to smile back, he waited for her to get another piece of paper and start drawing again before he folded up the one he had and tucked it in his inner pocket.

She was talking aloud to herself, to some imaginary friend he thought, and he found himself wanting to ask questions. But he couldn't think of what to say. So he contented himself with watching her draw strange things.

"She likes you." Meg's voice snapped him out of it and he looked around to see her standing just between them, leaning over Nyx's shoulder to look at what she was drawing. "She's usually shy with strangers."

Something in her nearness made him realize he was far more out of control than he thought he could be after nearly four years. Her hair brushed his shoulder and he watched her profile intently as she leaned over further. His fingers twitched on the bar and he quickly grasped a beer bottle to keep from reaching out.

"She's…" He searched for a word that wouldn't come across as creepy. "Very sweet."

Meg nodded and looked the drawing the child was making.

"Nyx, what's this?" she asked. Nyx had been drawing a face, though her scratches barely made it a face, and she had filled in black eyes and fangs. It was a strange picture for a child.

"Lev…Lev…" Nyx gave a frustrated sound when she couldn't figure out the word and shrugged. She changed her crayons around and started drawing flowers instead. Castiel still stared at Meg more than the drawing, absorbing the familiar look of her so close. Trying to see if there was anything under the surface.

He would have missed it if she hadn't turned to face him suddenly. No human would ever see it, not even a demon or angel who didn't know what to look for. It was so small, so insignificant.

A crack.

Under the disguise of a human soul glowing out of her there was a hair line crack down the surface. Just under it he could see a darkness and thought for a second he saw her face flicker a little. It made him stare at her and not know what to say.

Meg frowned at him. "You… you like staring, huh?" She walked around him over the bar and he stared at her, still hearing Nyx muttering to herself. He tried to make himself look away but he saw her curiosity and met it with his own.

"I'm sorry."

"No problem. So you and Henry aren't together, are you?" she asked. "Or you and his 'brother'." She quoted that word and Castiel sighed.

"No."

"Just sayin'. Seems like a lot of good looking ones around here are…"

"We're not." Castiel glanced at Nyx's drawing to avoid Meg's curious look.

"Just passing through then?" she asked and he nodded. "Not much to see in this town."

"I leave tonight," he said and he lowered his voice. "It's for the best."

Unwittingly, his eyes were drawn back to Nyx and then up to Meg. She tilted her head at him and he held her stare, wondering if she recognized anything about him. Her lips parted a little and her gaze wandered over all of him from his hands to his face. She seemed to be fighting to find the words to say something. But before she could manage to think of something, her eyes darted behind him as the conversation behind them grew louder and drunker.

"Nyx, behave," she warned the little girl and headed back to where the other men were sitting. Nyx huffed and handed Castiel another drawing. He looked at it and then at her.

"What is this? A cloud?"

She looked at him as if he was stupid. "Bee."

"Oh." He turned it around and nodded as if he could see it. "Yes, it is."

Nyx gave him a look as if she wasn't sure if he was stupid or not, but then she shrugged and started drawing again. Feeling awkward, he looked at his beer and almost prayed for Dean to come back and order him to leave. He wasn't sure he could get himself to leave the bar otherwise.

"Come on, sweetheart," a gruff voice said behind him. "You can't wear that and not expect me to want to get a taste…"

He heard a large hand slapping flesh and twisted around on his seat. Nyx barely flinched as he stood up, ready to attack. She just continued to draw.

Looking tiny between the two men trying to keep her at their table, Meg dodged another ass slap and grabbed one man's wrist in her hand. She flipped him around her onto the table and wrenched his head back, slamming his head into the wood. His friend surged up, raising a fist. Meg's spiky heel caught him in the solar plexus and he went down, choking on his breath as she spun around. Half-kneeling on him, her dark eyes flickered dangerously.

"Stay down!" she snapped as she lifted her fist and the man behind her grabbed at her wrist. Castiel heard the smack of his fist hitting her jaw and she sagged a bit. With one last check on Nyx, who seemed unbothered by the sounds, he launched forward and blocked another slap aimed at Meg's face. He took a blow to his side for his trouble but barely felt it, trying to see if she was hurt.

Meg shoved him out of the way and he saw her hand come out. Her fist cracked against the larger man's jaw and sent him flying over the table. Ignoring their shouts, she grabbed one's wallet he'd left on the table, fished out some money, and then slapped him in the face with it.

"Get the hell out of here," she snarled at the two men, giving the one a kick in his ass to get him moving. They stumbled out, half-drunk anyway and cursing at her.

Meg shook out her stinging hand and turned around, bumping into Castiel. He looked at her, backing up a little as he took in the fresh bruise high on her cheek. As if it cost her something, she shrugged. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He saw the broken flesh of her knuckle where her attacker's teeth had cut. "Your hand is…"

He reached out to heal her and then hesitated. Meg stared at his hovering hand suspiciously and he lowered it, getting out of her way.

"Just need some ice, that's all. When Josh gets back, he'll bitch but that's the usual." She went around the other side of the bar and looked at where Nyx was drawing. "Right, kid?"

"Right!" Nyx said happily as she coloured another bee.

Meg gave a half smile that made Castiel stare at her and then suddenly she was staring back at him. Realizing that he was alone with them completely, with Meg's attention focussed on him, didn't help his nerves. He had stayed too long already.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Call it even at six." Meg was running the broken skin of her knuckles under the cold water and Castiel stared as he fished around for what bills he had left. It was natural, angelic instinct, he told himself, to want to heal any injuries.

It was not angelic the reason why he knew he couldn't risk touching her.

When he looked down at Nyx, she was staring up at him, chewing on the paper corner thoughtfully as she stared at him. "Bye," she finally said, sniffling a bit.

Castiel smiled at her. "Goodbye." He glanced over his shoulder to see Meg watching him. "Thank you."

"No problem," she said, tossing her hair out of her eyes and turning back to bandaging her knuckles. Castiel dragged his eyes over her and then headed out the door, knowing if he just flew off Nyx would notice. It took him longer than it should have to get out the door. He grasped the door tight, nearly crushing the metal bracket in his grip, and stood for a moment, staring outside and hearing Nyx's chatter.

But he found the strength to leave.

Not noticing the way Meg's hands were starting to shake.

* * *

Linda Tran was not a fan of Arkansas. She did not like the heat or the humidity in the summer and how quiet it was in the winter. Three years hadn't changed that. But she'd been willing to help the Winchesters in exchange for them keeping Kevin safe. Following Sam into town, she'd found Meg's old car and knew she had probably gone to the bar. Sam had disappeared apparently, which was an accomplishment with a very memorable Impala, and she'd decided that maybe she could just take the time to walk through the stores that lined the street.

She was turning left towards a tourist booth when she banged into someone. Rough and calloused hands grabbed her and held her still.

"Sorry I…" When she looked up through the afternoon sun, she gaped at the scruffy, dark haired man in dusty clothing staring back at her. Gaunt cheeks, hallowed out eyes and hair that flopped over tired eyes, Kevin Tran didn't resemble anything close to what he had been a few years ago. His eyes were blood shot with deep purple circles underneath them but what worried her was the exhausted way he swayed on his feet.

But when he grinned she saw her son in that look.

"Hey Mom."

* * *

Sitting in the Impala down the street, wedged between two transports, Sam watched thoughtfully as the Trans started down the street towards the bar. Kevin rarely contacted them anymore; not for information or for help. He was on his own, he'd yelled at Dean, and it was better that way. Dean hadn't argued though Sam had known that he wanted to. So when he wandered, they'd thought they'd find ways to track him. But he'd fallen through the cracks easily. It was already hard enough to keep track of everyone they had to try to protect.

Sam checked his phone again and found a message telling him to go to the south of town. To bring a shovel.

Which meant only bad things, Sam was sure.

* * *

_The blonde woman was prey. It was the best way to explain how she felt as she watched the woman and a handsome dark haired man play with their children. It was a family, Meg thought, as they helped the little boy colour as another infant boy slept in his carrier_._ She was dreaming again but at least the scenery had changed._

_When she looked at her hands, she saw that they were massive and work rough, flannel pulled to her wrists. A quick glance at the mirror let her see a man of Native descent staring back at her. But the face didn't shock her._

_She never felt like she belonged in the first place. Dreaming that she was a man wasn't out of the ordinary. _

_When her eyes clicked black, she jerked and looked down at her coffee. With the suddenness of dreams, the crowd was suddenly gone from the diner and she was alone. Except for a man and a woman in the corner, their mouths almost fused together. The passionate kissing made her stomach turn for a reason other than embarrassment. As if there was something in the kissing that meant more._

_When her head turned, the man in the couple was standing beside her and the woman was stumbling away._

"_Daughter." As if the body meant nothing to what she was inside._

"_Why am I here?" she asked, her body's voice gruff and coarse._

"_Just sealed the deal with that lovely lovely Diana. So to follow through… I need you to kill her husband," he said bluntly, grinning at her indulgently. Like a parent giving his favourite child a treat._

"_Why?"_

"_Because I told you to. That is what you do, right? Obey your Father." He nodded to where the woman was slipping away through the door and his grin remained wicked. "He's the cook in the back. Likes to smack her around even though she's got a little girl back home. Poor thing. She wanted to be an actress but I told her that her kid could be an actress instead, that we can get her to LA maybe. Just didn't say what would happen to her."_

_His eyes flicked to yellow and he stared at Meg. "Kill him. That seals her deal."_

_He was gone in the blink of an eye and Meg stared at the knife that had appeared in her hands._

_In a strange, fast forward motion, the dream progressed through the night. Fast and in a blur until the cook finally came out from the back. He collected dishes and eyed her suspiciously. Meg waited until he was behind her. Should feel wrong, to stalk her prey like this, to want to kill._

_But she found it strangely familiar, exciting._

_He had his back to her when she grabbed her coffee mug and twisted to slam it onto his head. Dropping like a stone, he fought her weakly when Meg pounced. The heavy man she was kept him down easily with just the slightest pressure and he screamed as she buried the knife in his stomach. Humming lowly, she jerked it up into his heart in a jagged line._

"_Meg?"_

_The voice intruding on her delight was followed by a flash of light. Her tongue suddenly felt swollen, her head pounding as she twitched and struggled to finish the job. Even when he broke into a death rattle, her attention was on the shadowy door, where cracks of light from outside were shining through._

_But the light flickered again. Beckoning her towards the shadows._

"_Meg?"_

When she managed to open her eyes, the overhead lights of the bar made her wince and shut them again. Everything burned and she groaned, rolling her head to the side. The back of her head felt as if she'd been hit by something and her mouth tasted bloody. "Easy easy, you took a tumble again," Linda Tran's voice was soothing. "Nothing to be scared of."

"Nyx?" Meg whispered. It was hard to remember what happened. She remembered looking at Nyx as her daughter had shown her something and then nothing. Even the dream was fading now.

"Right here. She found me outside and we got to you in time."

Meg closed her eyes and Linda pressed the cold cloth against her forehead. "Was it another memory or just a bad dream? You hit the ground hard by the look of it."

Thinking it was a memory, even a twisted one, gave her the strangest urge to run. Ignoring her protesting body, Meg pushed herself into a sitting position and cradled the back of her head. It felt sticky with blood from where she must have hit it and her throat ached. "We?" she managed.

"You've looked better," Kevin's familiar voice made her open her eyes to see him sitting at the bar. Nyx was in his lap, her blue eyes wide with worry and she was chewing on her lower lip as she stared. Meg smiled weakly at her. Her daughter had seen worse in her short life with these strange spells of her mother's and she knew to just find Linda to make it better. Meg wasn't sure what it was that Linda did or what she gave her, but it tended to keep the episodes at bay and the dreams would leave.

A slight movement to her left made her glance up to see the man in the tan overcoat staring at her.

"You?" She had to blink to see him clearly. "I thought you left."

"I forgot something," he said though his eyes darted left as if it was a lie. Not wanting to argue, Meg shut her eyes. "I saw your daughter and these people running back. I thought perhaps those men had come back here after I left."

With her eyes closed, Meg didn't see the fierce look Linda gave Castiel.

He ignored it and knelt beside her, gingerly reaching out to touch the back of her head. "You won't need stitches but it will hurt for a while."

"Had worse," Meg said, her voice sleepy with the usual exhaustion that followed these spells.

"You've had them long?" he asked clinically.

"Are you a doctor?"

"No. Just… I've seen this before."

Linda cleared her throat and held out a mug of water for her. As she downed it to get rid of the strange sulphur taste in her mouth, Meg felt warmth at the back of her head as his palm touched the small wound. It didn't hurt and it left her feeling numb where the ache should be. The fingers sifting through her dark hair were gentle as the swelling lost its heat and the headache left. When her eyes lazily lifted up to meet his blue gaze fixed on her face, something shifted. His touch was not sexual or anything more than gentle.

_But it was familiar. Intimate…_

"Let's lock this place up. Josh will have to deal on his own tonight." Linda reached over and took her hands to help her stand, leaving Castiel kneeling on the ground for a moment.

"We should get you home," Kevin said and he looked at the little girl in his arms. "Right, Nyxie? We'll get you ice cream. I'm pretty sure Mom has chocolate at home."

The little girl nodded eagerly. Kevin grinned down at her and lifted her up onto his shoulders before passing her the stuffed unicorn. She was giggling at a joke he told her and when they headed for the door Meg had to smile. Kevin was the child's favourite person by far when he visited his mother. Made her a little grateful after one of her spells that he so easily took over.

Like the man beside her, his face always tugged at her memory. The way wearing a leather jacket, seeing blood or smelling smoke did. Sometimes the strangest things pulled at her but never did an actual memory return.

As she struggled into her jacket, she swayed dizzily before grabbing her side-bag close to her. With a warning look that told her to take it easy, Linda locked up behind her and flipped the sign to closed. Half way through the door, she swayed a bit more and then she was held still. A hand gripped her elbow to steady her and she unconsciously pulled free from it when she found her balance again. She staggered a few steps, following Kevin and Nyx as they chatted on the way down the street.

Behind her, she heard muttering voices as the man and Linda spoke. Her eyes were on the buildings and the cars on the street, taking it in with a drugged feeling of being displaced. It was weird how angry he sounded with Linda and not the reverse. She stopped to lean on a car and brushed her hand through her hair. It took a moment to feel right again, it always did, but as she leaned there, she felt Linda pass by, grumbling angrily. Grinning to herself, Meg didn't realize Castiel was beside her again until she opened her eyes again.

The angel was content just to watch her as he waited.

He ran his eyes over her, barely able to hide the way he lingered over her. His thorny caretaker; it was almost easy to picture that dark power of her, the terrible demonic features that he'd learned to love. He could see it simmering under her surface as the spell began to crack even further under the pressure of his Grace he had used. It hadn't been much power but the crack was widening because of it. Whatever dream she had been under was not a dream but a memory, a way of the spell dying but still fighting the inevitable.

She fixed her coat and didn't seem to notice the way he looked at the fragile curve to her neck, the way he itched to touch her. He kept his hands in his coat pockets to resist the urge. It was curious how fast and how sudden he had gone from sullen to hopeful.

Knowing this day maybe just be a passing moment was something he ignored.

Part of him wanted to absorb as much as he could before he buried this away and pretend he didn't care that it would never happen again.

She crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him. "Why did you come back to the bar? Not like we know each other."

"I wanted to be sure you were unhurt."

"Aren't you just the sweetest?" When she saw him actually smile at her teasing, Meg's dark lined eyes squinted at him. "You don't talk like you're from around here. And I'm fine. I've been beating up the bar guys since I could remember and I still get those seizures. They aren't severe."

When she turned to go, Castiel leaned back against the brick wall of the building. "How much of it do you remember? Of your life?"

Meg jerked to a stop.

"What did you say?" She pirouetted slowly on her heel and took a few steps towards him.

"Your memory. You don't remember much, do you?"

Her face closed up. "How did you know?"

Guilt crossed his face for just a second before he reminded himself that this really wasn't Meg. This was a human version, a shadow of what she really was. Much of her was the same but what remained different was what needed protecting. She wouldn't know what he was or what he knew and that could be for the best.

"I figured it out. I knew that you seemed upset when your friend asked if was about a memory. I knew…"

If he thought he was going to get the slightest hint of gratitude for his concern, he forgot who she really was. Immediately she was defensive, not liking how much a total stranger was seeing about her.

"Well, take your figuring out and fuck off." She spun around and started off down the street, her heavy bag slung over her shoulder. Ahead of her, Kevin was still holding Nyx and his eyes caught Castiel's. With a shake of his head, the angel disappeared down the street and left them alone.

"Who the fuck did he think he was?" Meg demanded as she came up beside them. "Saying he knew anything about me. I don't even know a damn thing about me!"

"Children present," Linda said and Meg eyed Kevin.

"Sorry, kiddo."

Ignoring the bad joke, he sighed and passed Nyx over to her, holding the stuffed toy for her. "She's not feeling well. I think the excitement has gotten to her."

Meg cuddled the child to her chest and felt her sleepily grab at her necklace. "Come on, baby girl, let's get you home to ice cream and a nap."

"Want that man to come."

"I'm not sure he'd want to," Meg joked and Linda choked on what she wanted to say. Balancing Nyx on her hip, Meg followed them back up the street to where Linda had parked. She was in no condition to drive anyway. Nyx burrowed her tiny body into Meg's leather jacket for warmth.

"I like him."

"Yeah, baby? Why's that?" Meg asked, deciding to humour her. Nyx was toying with the charms on her necklace like she always did.

"He's pretty. He glows."

"He is pretty but I don't think he glows, Nyxie." Meg paused when her daughter lifted her head a bit off her shoulder and looked at her. Nyx was notorious for not trusting people, especially men. "Why do you like him so much?"

"Nice to me. He sees me."

Meg caught on fast to her daughter's childish phrasing. It was perfectly normal, for her, to talk to her nearly four year old daughter like this. What Nyx tended to understand was more advanced than people gave her credit for; they often misinterpreted her shyness for childish ignorance. But she seemed to be incredibly smart and she didn't often like people. Those she did like tended to get the full force of her attention, which was why she loved Kevin and Linda so much. What few men or women Meg had met either looked through Nyx or paid too much smothering attention to her, both as ways to try to get to Meg's bed. Both ways got them the door.

Nyx's intuition about people was pretty uncanny and Meg preferred to stick to the occasional fling anyway. It was hard to find the desire when that innate wrongness lingered every time she tried to let go and enjoy a lover. Nothing lasted. She didn't feel normal enough anyway. Usually it ended with her kicking them out before they even really began and the feeling like she wasn't right had never really left.

"He loves me."

"Say what?" Meg eye rolled at the sudden comment. "Nyx, he knew you five minutes."

"Loves me. Like you love me."

"Kid, you can't tell that with people you just met."

She walked a few steps and Nyx tugged on her hair. "Loves you too."

Meg nearly tripped over her own feet in surprise and then sighed. "Okay, Nyxie, time for bed. You're tired."

Nyx huffed and rolled her blue eyes in impression of her mother. "He does."

"Yeah and I'll believe in unicorns."

* * *

"I'm going to tear out your throat and drink your blood!" the demon shrieked. Standing in front of her, Dean stared at the trapped demon. It hadn't been hard. It was a young one, likely fresh from the Pit and a little stupid with overconfidence and new power. All it had taken was the right trap and she was stuck in the salt lines. Now all she could do was pace to the limits of the circle in the angry way of a caged animal.

"That's more of a vamp thing to try. Go with something more demonic and I'd believe it," Dean said as he leaned against the tree and watched her. Before she could respond, the Impala roared up the dirt road near the old building and the demon stared at the car with open recognition.

"Winchesters!" Her black eyes locked on Dean with growing terror and he grinned.

"Bit slow, aren't you?" Ignoring her spitting insults, he waited for Sam to get out of the car, quickly check the surroundings, and come up beside him before continuing. "So why were you in Heber Springs? Can't tell me you've been riding that girl for long. She still has that fresh meat look."

"It's a free country."

"Not for demons." He stood across from her and unsheathed Ruby's Knife. "Care to share why you were pulling babysitter duty with a kid? Not what a demon would normally do."

"Maybe we're expanding operations," she said sarcastically.

"Slim pickings in the Pit? Or is it some sort of war going on?"

The black eyes turned back to more innocent blue. "What war?"

"Cute." Sam watched her impatiently. "Why are you babysitting?"

"Why do you two care what I do with a little kid?" Her eyes rolled to the sky. "I took this chick when she was going for a walk in the park. Kid was an accessory. Screamed her damn head off when she saw me and I just can't stand kids. But if I killed her…"

"Too much attention, right," Dean finished for her. "Why Heber Springs?"

She twitched a little, not about to answer, and Sam pulled out a bottle of holy water. "Try it."

"Crowley said there was a new type of Cambion out there. Anyone who is available is to look for her. Him and Abaddon wanted most of the soldiers in Hell but the rest of us…"

"Search and destroy."

She grinned wickedly. "Like killing a little kid is such a hard thing."

Dean smirked. "I'm glad you said that."

Before Sam could stop him, he slammed the blade into her chest, watching the sparks fly and the demon chortle in surprise. Sam flinched and looked away, rubbing at his chest a little. As the demon sagged lifelessly, he got out of the way of her falling body and gave Dean a look.

"What?"

"You know what."

"Look, we can't risk exorcising and we can't risk any demon coming here. Buys us some time." Dean wiped the knife on his jeans and as he sheathed it again he said loudly, "Right, Cas?"

The angel sighed heavily as he fluttered in, looking annoyed to have been discovered. "Yes, exactly."

"Doesn't make it right." Sam sighed and looked at the body. "We don't even know if Crowley could find her or Meg. They've been safe for three years now."

Castiel looked ready to say something, so Dean nudged him hard. "Spit it out."

"What I used to hide Meg… it's cracking. Sooner or later, it may crack entirely with the right pressure."

"From Crowley?"

"Or from me, from anyone with the right amount of power. Just even having an angel here seems to be affecting Meg now. And we only met for just over an hour." Missing Dean's curious look, Castiel looked out at the road. "We need to be more careful. I'll… try my best to keep far away, make it look like I was searching for the Metatron or someone else."

"We leave too fast, it's going to draw attention. We can ward up Linda's house, try to keep them from being seen. But we'll have to think of something. We've had them three years here and never saw the demons even noticing something different."

"Now we've got demons out, monsters starting to show up in places we don't always see them." Sam stared at the girl's body. "Something must be taking notice. Not just Crowley. Abaddon leashed him pretty tight lately."

Castiel nodded, ready to wing off when Dean cleared his throat. Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder at the brothers.

"But, Cas, it was good to see them, wasn't it?" Dean asked. "For a minute there, I saw the old you again."

Castiel nodded. "It was." He hesitated, not sure how to continue. "Thank you… for giving me that time with them."

Before they could accept his thanks, he was gone, the demon's dead vessel gone with him. Dean looked at Sam and gave an almost sad smile.

"Something tells me that that won't be enough."

Sam nodded. "It had to happen some day."

"Just hope its not something that is going to backfire."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Because that never happens."

* * *

The bartender wasn't sure what to make of the young man sitting in front of him. He had been pouring drinks when, he was sure, this new customer appeared out of no where. He looked almost too young to be drinking but he smiled so winningly that he had poured him a beer anyway. A crisp fifty was laid across the bar and he realized it was a bribe immediately.

"I'm looking for someone." The eyes flashed yellow for just a heartbeat before they were blue. "And I hear that you saw a young man in here earlier."

"I see a lot of travellers, going up to the springs," Josh tried to deflect. The man put another fifty on the bar. The lights overhead flickered a little

"These boys are very special." He dug into his jean pocket and pulled out a photo of two handsome men, likely in their thirties,. They were hardly boys, to the bartender, and the way the photo had been taken was clear that they'd been unaware they were watched.

"Yeah, I recognize 'em. They show up every few months. Stay up at the B&B house run by that Ms. Banner. Nice lady but she scares most of us." Josh looked at him nervously. "Why are you looking for them? You don't look like a cop."

"Oh, I'm not. We just go way back," was the calm answer. The grin though was strangely happy. "You didn't see anyone else with them?"

"No one I recognized."

"That's the best news I've heard all day." Blue eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "You might want to get out of here in about five minutes."

Josh gave him a puzzled look. "What? Why?"

The eyes snapped to his face. "Because I need something to call some old friends with. I'm giving you a running head start." Reaching under the bar for his shotgun, the bartender rested his hand on the trigger. The way the young man counted showed that he meant it. "One thousand one… one thousand two…"

But one look in the swirling colours of those strange eyes had Josh frozen, even when a blade slashed out and slit his throat.


	2. Shattered (When Angels Reveal)

_Summary: As Castiel copes with meeting Meg and his daughter Nyx once again, the Winchesters realize that the angel is not the only one who is aware of her existence._

* * *

**Part 2: Shatter (When Angels Reveal)**

Crowley had seen demons and monsters blown apart, ripped to shreds, dragged, drowned, eaten, stabbed; all sorts of the most degrading or disgusting ways to end them. He had seen what all sides, whether on the side of good or evil, were capable of. Suffice to say that there was little that he hadn't seen. He had even seen a demon revived from the final death, something that had never been done before and hadn't been done since. All of that led to one very large conclusion: the past three years had been filled with enough weirdness that he was hard to shock.

So finding himself surprised the moment he came back to his private torture chambers and found demons and monsters alike waiting for him, like allies might, was almost new again. The demons backed away from the monsters immediately but there was no sign of a battle having taken place. It was as if the monsters had been let in, despite his express orders for them to be killed on sight. No loyalty in demons anymore, Crowley thought angrily and decided to give most of them back to the Pit if he had to.

Hunger was clear in the eyes of the monsters. Though they were just souls and would have no form on Earth, here in Hell they managed to take on a corporeal form, the same as they might Purgatory.

_More was the pity,_ he thought, _they weren't pretty thing to look at on the whole._

His personal guard waited, and at leas they seemed ready to attack, but the monsters were at a standstill. Everything about them screamed that they were edgy, hungry and wanting for something. Little opportunity had been given to them since they had tried to invade Hell. They might all be half-mad and strong because of Purgatory, but Hell was the demons' home ground and they didn't know all of its ins and outs. That they had made it this far, souls intact and not sent back with their tails between their legs, meant that they had some insider information.

Crowley hated traitors when he wasn't the one doing the betrayal.

"No loyalty in demons," he muttered as he slid the door shut. The fewer to see what went on here the better. "Well, what do you want, eh? Must be something big if you are all fired storming down here like you've got a war to start."

A creature stepped forward and its twisted snout and broken fangs revealed what had once been a werewolf. Time in Purgatory had twisted it into a very different sort of beast. Vaguely, the demon had to wonder Purgatory could do to change a creature so viciously.

"Want her."

Crowley arched his eyebrow. "Her? You might to be a bit more clear."

"Our mother."

He looked over at where, after he'd been done with the body, Crowley had strapped her body to the ceiling like a kind of trophy. In pieces. "Lots of good she'll do you. She's just been hanging around, you could say."

Delighted with his joke, the demons chortled and he grinned at the monsters. There was no laughter or even the slightest tic of emotion in the ones closest to the broken doors. But the werewolf leapt onto the table between them and roared into his face so that blood and spittle flew between them. Its massive claws dug deep into the surface of the table and the metal bent under the pressure.

Turning his head to the side, Crowley gave a disgusted sigh and dabbed at his wet face with a silk handkerchief.

"Thanks." He eyed the snarling monster. "That's it? You storm hell just for mommy dearest?"

"Our creator," a vampire behind the werewolf snarled. He would have to be an alpha or pureblood to intimidate the werewolf into cowering a little. "Our leader. She is our blood."

"A rotted corpse who has only been good for biology lessons. Still reproducing, and I can imagine that she's still affecting you." He snapped his fingers and the nails he'd kept embedded in Eve's brain wound deeper. The vampire twisted and screamed with it, furiously digging at his own head.

Crowley grinned. "You don't really think I'd give up a prize like her without a fight, do you?"

The werewolf on the table half changed in a tiny red-haired woman from the face up. Her eyes fixed in Crowley. "No. But we will take her. Or you will hear nothing of what we know."

"Dead monsters? What the hell do you all know beyond hunting each other?" he asked apathetically, turning around insultingly. The werewolf writhed a little and Crowley turned back towards the monster. Behind it, a Shifter had pulled away from the monsters group and it made him stare. It looked stunningly like Castiel.

"One of my kind learned about the fallen angel. We stole his body's hair, became him. Worked for a short time until he killed us. But as him, we heard rumours, of strange things. About the Winchesters hiding a woman and a baby. A special woman and a special baby. We thought that was nothing." The Shifter's blue eyes fixed on Crowley and saw his expression slipping through the poker face. "But apparently, it is worth something to you. We can tell you where they are and those of us who are revived will help you recover them. We have our own interests there."

"Might be. If that whore is alive, then I want her. She would give me a certain amount of leverage. Just what are you going to do with her?" Crowley asked as he pointed at Eve. He had the feeling that if she had still had eyes she'd be watching her children.

The werewolf transformed back fully and howled. The other monsters grinned and, lost in the possibly legal outcomes of the deal, the King of the Crossroads missed the way the pieces of Eve's body shuddered in apparent pleasure. The way her eyes did open this time to watch what was happening.

* * *

The old house was likely a firetrap, but at the time it had been the safest place for them to hide. Small town, small population, not enough to get noticed and just enough to keep them from being too isolated. Linda Tran had made it her home and Dean did like it. It gave them a place to rest and relax between hunts when the bunker was too closed in for his liking.

Not to mention this way he didn't lose track of Meg or her child.

Sitting in the guest room, Dean stared out the window as Linda's car finally came up the long driveway to the house. He could just make Meg out in the passenger side, looking like she was sound asleep and he knew where Meg was then Nyx was sure to be. He didn't like thinking of the girl as just Meg's; God knew he'd been the one to help bring her into this world and he knew she was Castiel's. All he had to do was look at her and see the meatsuits the angel and demon had taken as theirs. He could see how Nyx looked both like the girl from Cheboygan and Jimmy Novak of Pontiac, Illinois but he thought of her as Meg and Castiel's with no guilt of it. She was theirs. God, he could even imagine, with easy clarity, what her true-self looked like. Assuming she had one.

He simply didn't like the thought of getting attached even a little to her.

It made it easier not to get attached; if he thought of her as just a kid, he kept himself from getting angry over Castiel's choices, kept himself from wondering if she was a big bad in hiding. Castiel's decision had kept Meg and Nyx safer than houses but absent fathers and mothers had made none of them happy before.

As he saw Nyx lean over the seat to hand Meg that ridiculous stuffed unicorn, ancient in toy terms, Dean had to smile. Sam had never explained the joke behind it and Dean figured the less he knew the better. That was a joke between demon Meg and Sam.

The thought of his brother made Dean look around to see him snoring away on the other bed. For some reason, the position made Sam look much younger and a little more vulnerable. Dean rubbed at his chest, the strange phantom pain in his chest aching. That pain was always stronger when they were separate, which had led to far too many heartache or lovesick jokes from people - even Castiel had attempted a few -, but lately the pain wasn't leaving. Which meant that maybe the spell was starting to fade.

They would have to find another way.

The irony of it fading it just when things might be going to hell again wasn't lost on Dean. The whole thing had been strange. Sharing in Sam's thoughts, feelings, memories, visions had taken them places neither brother had expected before. If ever Dean had wondered what it would be like to special in a strange way, he was over it. He knew that if he felt Sam's insecurities, then Sam had felt his.

Scary.

Sighing, he checked his phone for the hundredth time since they'd come here. No messages. He scrolled through the old text and muttered at the phone, "Leave us to clean up the mess this time, eh, Cas?"

As if answering, the phone buzzed as a text came through.

_Thank you._

He clicked his tongue. _This is gonna go to hell,_ he texted back.

_Likely_, was the answer and Dean had no response for that.

Watching the car, he mumbled a curse when he recognized Kevin getting out of the backseat with Nyx. Scraggly, dirty, gaunt but still Kevin. Their only link to the future.

Poor kid. There were better burdens to carry.

But at least he was smiling. He rarely did that anymore around them. Too much had happened to him to make his life a living nightmare. Especially when he bore prophecy now more than before. Before he'd been a translator, now he was a seer and too many people needed his help, not just them.

Poor kid.

Watching Kevin swing the little girl up onto his shoulders, Dean had to admit you would never actually know he was as worn down as he claimed. Linda had said he liked the kid, that he saw something in her. Though what, he wasn't sure. Handling the kid seemed to make Kevin forget his burdens as he carried her up and Dean noticed Meg get out of the passenger seat, limping.

Every time they came here, she avoided them both. More because Linda told her to, he figured, and he was glad for it.

A little.

Meg the demon and Meg under human disguise weren't that different. She hadn't changed to him; maybe quieter and confused by her memory loss as to what she was. Linda had been the best person to leave her with; she'd been able to keep her from doing much to regain that side of her Castiel had buried. But Meg was still someone he wouldn't want to face up against in a dark alley. Or let near any sharp objects.

The thought of Meg with a knife was definitely not something he wanted.

"They're back?" Sam's groggy voice intruded on his thoughts and Dean grunted, pulling back from the curtains. "Took them a while."

"Came back in Linda's car. Good thing the Impala is parked in that side lot, eh?"

Sam got up and stood behind him, staring down at the yard. "Guess something happened. You said that Cas was okay?"

"No, I said that he said he was okay. I think seeing them again… maybe it did him some good and maybe it didn't. I don't know." Dean turned and walked to the door of the rented room. "You feelin' okay?"

"Not great. Just weird. The past month my heart's been acting funny," Sam admitted. "Like it's weighed down by something. Doesn't hurt or anything."

Dean gave him a puzzled look but said nothing to that. "So what do you want to do about this then?" he asked, pointing at where the Trans and Meg were coming up the steps below them. Like Sam, he didn't want to think about the slow change starting to affect them both.

"What can we do? Just have to wait I guess." Sam rubbed at the back of his neck. "If Meg's memory comes back, our problems are just going to get worse and worse. If Crowley's right, the monsters are up to something and the demons don't know how to cope anyway. And the monsters… well… I mean it looks like every scenario is a pretty crappy one.

"I don't like it." His eyes flicking over Meg thoughtfully, Dean shook his head. "Don't like it at all."

"Yeah well," Sam gestured, "if we can find a way of warding this place up better, we can keep anyone from knowing about them for a little bit longer."

At Dean's disbelieving look, he sheepishly shrugged. "It's just a theory."

* * *

The Crossroads demon sitting in the bar had been drawn by the call. It hadn't been an SOS or anything beyond a "who is near" sort of call. Which to an old one like her was interesting. She hadn't actually been here before. Places like these were too insignificant for a demon of her stature.

But since Abaddon had kept all of them so close to the Gates of Hell lately, the chance to escape, to cause some havoc, was tempting.

The bartender was dead, nothing but a washed out bloody corpse behind the counter, and she'd poured herself a few drinks since coming in. The dead tourists behind her she'd stolen a few trinkets off of but there'd been nothing of another demon hanging around. Or even a monster.

So maybe whoever had left the message had gone already.

Sipping delicately at her vodka, she ran a tongue over her red lips and waited.

She didn't hear him come in. Not until he was behind her with one hand tight in her hair, the other wrapped around her throat, and his breath in her ear.

"Hello, Louise."

With her head wrenched back, she tried to summon what demonic strength she could find but there was nothing that came to her. She felt blocked and beaten within a matter of seconds. Her eyes flitting to red, she growled angrily and looked up into the slim features of a young man with blue eyes. Under the surface, she couldn't tell what he was. For one moment he resembled a demon, and in the next moment an angel.

"Who're you?" she croaked and he laughed, nuzzling the side of her face before putting his lips to her ear.

"I'm the reason you're here." The low laugh was enough to send a chill up even the spine of an old demon like her. "Both now and a long time ago." The hand on Louise's throat gentled until he was stroking her skin. "Why do you think I called you here?"

"You…" She felt automatic fear and obedience towards him and she hadn't felt that in centuries.

"Stupid question, sorry. I usually am better at these sorts of things." His face loomed in her vision as he pulled her hair sharply so her neck bent at a strange angle. "What kind of deal would you like to make? If I let you go, to find and speak to Crowley, you bring him here. But if you tell him about me, you die."

"I don't even know who you are."

"Not yet. I want you to unleash some hellhounds. To find something for me. Just a little something"

Her eyes widened. "Only Crowley can let them out."

"Come now. Like you couldn't manage that." He held up a small drawing, a scribbling sort of bees and clouds, and held it out to her. "Find me on the stateline. I have something I need the hellhound to find."

"It will take a while, the nearest place I can retrieve them from is far away. That's…that's it?" she asked and he smiled, crushing the drawing and putting it in his pocket.

"For now." His eyes flickered a little and took on an amber glow. "Until I'm ready for more."

* * *

It took hours before the hounds rose from Hell and set on their course. Standing against a lonely, mostly dead old tree, the hellhounds that had been prowling the area approached their masters with something close to devotion. As close as creatures like that could come to it. They were small compared to the beasts normally bred by Crowley or Abaddon, faster and far more wicked because of it. Bred from new litters and young, they had covered the territory with incredible speed. They were on the hunt for any smells that were just a little different and now they had found the pair that had called them.

"Of course," the male said as he crouched down and rubbed at one beast's neck thoughtfully. The Crossroads demon standing behind him nervously looked around. "All we had to do was wait."

It growled under his hand. It had waited years for a hunt.

"What's a little while longer? Their Judas is likely going to be one of them anyway," the yellow-eyed demon asked as he held down the crushed paper for the creatures to sniff. They snuffled hungrily over it. "Find us something special."

With matching howls, the hounds sprang off to begin their hunt for that strange smell.

* * *

Castiel always found it ironic that Metatron had been in Colorado for so long and not once had anyone had felt him there, and no one in Heaven had thought to look for him since he had gone into hiding the first time. Now, he was even certain the old angel had returned there and he could feel him lingering there. Old habits and comforts died hard with some angels, Castiel knew. But instead of charging into the old hotel that the Metatron would have gone back to, the angel went instead to a small cafe in the local town and waited after leaving a message at the front desk.

He doubted he was alone.

After leaving Heber Springs, he'd openly wandered for a few days so that he could attract the angels' attention. Those left in charge were keeping a close eye on any strange activity and he knew they would keep a close eye on him. If he'd stayed in that small town, eventually it would have been seen as strange. He knew better than to return until they were distracted into leaving him alone.

He fully intended on distracting them with something else. That notion of devious cruelty he had never liked using but he was not above it.

Not when on he had to protect others.

Sipping at the cup of bitter coffee, he tapped his other fingers on the tabletop and waited. As he had for several hours but he was in no rush. He had time. Another hour passed before a chair pulled up in front of him. Castiel only sipped his coffee and nodded to the man joining him.

"I got your message," Marv said angrily as he snapped his fingers, a cup of coffee appearing in his hand. "What do you want, Castiel?"

The younger angel merely smiled and it was such a cool smile that the Scribe twitched visibly. Of the angels in Heaven, Castiel still intimidated him after all that had happened.

"I let you go, months ago, because I was sick of death in my family. I was tired of wars about who's right, who's wrong, who has followed devoutly and who has strayed. But now I need to ask you something."

"So let me guess. You let me go, I owe you eternally for not turning me over to the Intelligence?" Marv demanded.

Castiel squinted at him and he nervously leaned back, sensing that flippancy wasn't going to get him anywhere today.

"Because of you, Heaven suffered. I would say you owe me much more than this. It's a start."

"Fine. Let's hear it."

"Did you ever speak to God, in the past three years?"

The offhand question made the Metatron blink unexpectedly. "No, of course not."

"Neither did Sandalaphon?"

"Anya? Why would she?" There was something in the shifty in the way Marv looked down at his hands. "God abandoned all of us."

"He gave us choice," Castiel corrected. "It's not His fault we failed his expectations."

"What kind of parent leaves his children because it is 'for the best'?" Marv asked and gave Castiel a smarmy grin. He didn't miss how the younger angel flinched. "Why are you asking about God now? You avoided the subject for years now."

"You've read all the scripture, created tablets, done his work and read his Words. Was there… any mention of a child of angels in the prophecies?"

Marv looked at him quizzically. "Never." He thought it over. "Though, you have to understand, prophecies write themselves and tablets were created for every major form of life, Castiel. I merely wrote on them to instruct control. Doesn't mean I created them. The tablets were there; I simply put words on them. There are much higher forms of life that are created that even I know nil about."

Castiel looked at the table thoughtfully.

Marv took a sip of coffee and leaned forward. "Why the questions, Castiel? Your daughter was killed by the Lethe, your demon with her. At least, that is what we were told." He shrugged. "At the time, I was too busy to care about the logistics and the angels too busy to know that there could be a lie in that."

Lifting his head, Castiel stared back at him.

"Three years of lies, Castiel. One large problem after another." He tilted his head back and looked at the sky. "And all of them had one common factor." His eyes dropped back, narrowing a little in thought. "You. What is it about you that God needs to include in all his mysterious works?"

Not answering, the angel in the overcoat stood up and put a few dollar bills down for his coffee.

"I had hoped you could answer that. But you never have any real answers." Castiel tucked his chair in and turned to go. But the Metatron cleared his throat to stop him.

"I did what I thought was best, Castiel, at the time. Not just out of vengeance but because I wanted to make you all see. How are we that different?" he asked, the cup clattering on its tiny plate. Castiel turned back towards him, staring down the length of his nose like the arrogant soldier he had once been.

"I did what I did out of love. You did what you did out of spite," he answered. "There is a great difference. It took me a long time to learn it."

With a flutter he was gone and Marv made a face.

"Self-righteous prick," he spat out, setting down his cup and getting up. Well aware of the sensation of being watched, he walked out of the patio, trying to appear human. Trying to appear normal.

The angels watching him set down close and began to follow at a discreet distance.

Standing in the park across the street, Castiel tucked his hands into his pockets and watched as the angels who had been looking for him were distracted by the presence of the Metatron. Whatever sins he had committed, the Metatron's were still fresh in the angels minds. They wanted him and they wanted their answers and their revenge.

Which meant he would be left alone, for a least a little while, and he could go back to where he wanted to be.

* * *

Kevin had dreamed so much in the past few months. Of demons, angels, monsters. Gods and monsters.

He hated them all so much in those moments.

His mind was so full of prophecy and outcomes and he was tired. Exhausted to the core. Some days he would wake up in a bus station, screaming; other times he would work for days without sleep until he finally dropped. Travelling had helped him learn to work off the nightmares and prophecies. The only reason he had come back to his mother's house was because he was needed there.

He had to witness… something. Kevin just wasn't sure what it was. He had dreamed something terrible.

_Hot breath, screams and the sound of blood and flesh meeting._

But instead of telling anyone, Kevin simply smiled and acted normal. As normal as he could be now. He went around the house, let his mom treat him like a child, and he pretended.

Pretended that he didn't have visions that frightened him and heard voices whispering to him of what had to be done to save them all.

* * *

The werewolf pack stared at the body they had dragged into their territory within Purgatory. Bringing_ her_ back here had been the longest trek any had made. The demons nipping at their heels had slowed them down. The crawl of bodies in the Pit sickening to even them and they had wanted to stay and fight.

But they had their prize and they could afford to retreat.

It was the alphas and purebloods of every race that moved forward to meet them. Normally ravenous and enemies of each other, in Purgatory their hungers had slow abated to become more conniving. The ones here had been trying to escape for years, hunting those who knew how. But there was one good way to get back from the doors of Purgatory if no human was available.

And they had their orders to find her.

A Shifter in the form of a child moved forward and slid back into its adult form. "You brought her."

"Father will be pleased," a vampire hissed in obvious pleasure.

"Aren't they always?" a werewolf snarled.

"The demons?"

"Blind. Their one leader is more set in saving his own skin than to see what is before him. Which is how we like it, as I recall." The werewolf shifted a little, face back to that of a petite woman, and cast a quick eye over the clearing. "Any news?"

"Those in on the plan have their orders, and the others are still warring hopelessly in Hell in that loss cause. With her at our side once again, we can find a way to escape. Through Hell if we have to."

"The demons don't really escape that easily. They have to fight their way out of the Pit first," the werewolf grumbled and the vampire shrugged.

"What we need to do will be gladly borne for the chance at freedom. He will come back soon and revive her."

Growling in pleasure, the vampires, Shifters, and werewolves began to slowly put the dismembered corpse back together. Whenever her joints met with the flesh, the flesh wrapped around the bone and reconnected itself. Each heavy bag containing her body parts squirmed on its own, as if eager to be put back together like a sickening puzzle.

They were operating in near secrecy now; the sects of monsters devout to their 'mother' and the chance for freedom to the other world they'd been killed in. They needed the secrecy. It would be so easy for this plan to fall apart.

No one was allowed to cross the river to see what was happening.

Sitting on the shoreline under a cover of trees and sucking on a tiny sliver of wood, a lone vampire in a battle-torn cap and coat wondered what they were up to.

* * *

Squinting into the bar's windows, Meg tapped roughly on the glass and called out Josh's name. "Hey! Come on, you owe me two hundred bucks!" she shouted through the window. She could hear some music but not actually see him through the smoky windows. The doors were tightly locked and she hadn't been able to budge them. "I know you're in there!"

_Bastard._

Punching her fist against the door, she shoved back and headed back down the street, determined to try again tomorrow. She needed that money. The slow buildup in her stash, her 'nest egg', meant that sooner or later she and Nyx could actually leave this town and she could go find that place that called to her in her dreams. It was drawing her to it. Water, sandy beaches, some place actually warm.

But she needed every penny she could get her hands on because she didn't want to have to cheat and steal the entire time. That took too much work and someone would catch her eventually. She knew she had to keep herself safe though why that thought stayed with her, she wasn't sure.

Still cursing under her breath, she paused to dislodge a piece of stone from inside her boot and was bumped by someone walking around her just as she unlaced. He paused and turned, half a step, smiling at her as he watched her shake her boot upside-down.

"Sorry, didn't see you there," he said, his youngish face almost distorted by the strange light in his eyes. Still crouched, Meg looked up at him as she relaced her boot and he gave her a white-toothed smile that was predatory.

"No problem," she answered. For a second, his face flared bright white and then shadowed. It made her stare harder, curious as to why it seemed like something dark and twisted lay just under the surface of his skin. He grinned, nodded, and walked away, whistling an old rock song as he went. Meg frowned before she tugged her jean leg back down and stood up.

When she turned, digging into her back pocket for her keys and her emergency smokes, she banged into someone else.

"Son of a bitch, does no one watch where they are going?" she snapped, as she pushed her hair out of her eyes. Glancing up into a pair of blue eyes, she blinked and stepped back a bit when she recognized him.

"Sorry. I… I was…"

"Stalker boy. You still hanging around?" she asked, tilting her head on the side and eyeing him. She shook her pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, making sure to watch his reaction. What was his name? Cassie? Castie? Something weird.

He gave a half smile that looked nervous and yet earnest. "I had a few things to look at around this town. I decided to stay."

"Like what? Or are you saying you want to take a dip in the springs a few miles up?" she asked as she walked around him. He fell into step beside her and Meg shouldered her bag a bit higher, feeling the need to protect herself from him.

"While I'm sure those are pleasant, in my experience hot springs tend to be very crowded."

As she lit up her cigarette, Meg eyed him and wove her way through the people walking on the sidewalk. Strange. It felt like the world was watching her walking with this strange man. Not to mention…

_How did you tell someone you were sure you had seen their face before in a dream without sound like an insipid girl trying to flirt?_

"Are you looking for company?" she asked after taking a deep drag. She didn't need it often but she used it to calm her nerves sometimes. It was an old habit that she thought she must have had once. There was something in the taste that reminded her of something, something vague and bitter.

He smiled again. "Not especially. We're headed in the same direction."

Meg nodded and then turned, stopping mid-stride. "What's your name again?"

He paused and seemed to think about it. "Novak."

"Yah-huh." Meg crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him. He'd taken too long to answer so she didn't buy it. She took a short puff and then looked him up and down. "Look, if you think I'm easy because I work at the bar or because you think…"

"I was just walking with you," he cut in. "I didn't have anything else in mind."

Meg's grin turned wicked. "That's a shame."

Castiel blinked, not expecting that. Meg waited to see if he would rise to the flirting but he simply shook his head. His eyes went to the cigarette and she looked at it too before flicking a bit of ash away.

"Bad habit, I know." Taking another long drag, she let the smoke out in a stream and stubbed the cigarette out on the brick wall. "I only do it when I'm feeling stressed or if my daughter isn't around."

"It isn't good for you," he agreed and she laughed.

"Nothing fun ever is." Pushing her hair out of her eyes again, she took a few steps to the left and watched him mirror her before she leaned against the wall. "You just want to hang out with me or something?"

"I was hoping you could tell me if De… Henry was still in town. He had some information for me."

"Oh yeah, staying with Linda at her place." Leaning back, she jutted one hip out to look relaxed. Still he was staring at her. "Anyone ever tell you how creepy that is? The staring?"

"Repeatedly," he said and didn't continue. When Meg arched an eyebrow at him, he looked away. "Your memory. Do you mind me asking what happened to you?"

"Not really any of your business but I was told it was a car accident. Nyx and I were lucky to be alive. Woke up here. Only had my girl. Was lucky Linda took us in." Her dark-lined eyes narrowed at him. "Why?"

"Just curious. I had a friend with a similar memory problem a long time ago. He woke up… eventually. Saw things differently and realized what life could be like."

"Lucky stiff. Me? I just struggle through." Meg moved away from the wall and stepped into him, causing Castiel to stiffen up and nervously sway a little. Her head tilted back a bit so she could look right up at him and Castiel looked down into her brown eyes "But what do you want?"

Castiel debated on answering with what he really thought but he wisely kept to the disguise of a tourist.

"Just…" He swallowed audibly as his breathing deepened. All the time cursing himself for being surprised that even now she could cause a reaction in him. He should be more in control, he reminded himself. "I was making conversation."

"If you're trying to pick me up, next time try the weather. What I like to drink. Or how great I look in tight jeans. Memory talk? Not so sexy." She picked up the pace again and he immediately walked beside her down the street to the small grocery store. A group of teenagers coming up the sidewalk made no intention of moving out of the way for them and he shouldered around her a bit, slowing so his body spun tight against hers. Meg let him protect her from being bumped though it made her grin at how silly it seemed. It brought them closer than they had been before and something prickled over her skin as his breath brushed the side of her neck.

_It felt familiar_.

Shaking herself, Meg continued walking and he kept up. "You like this place?"

"Can't say I know any difference between here or somewhere else." She never told anyone that she felt there was something wrong about this place. It wasn't home. Just a place. She looked over her shoulder at him and spun mid-step, walking backwards with the sort of flawless grace she had always had. "Why are you following me?"

He smiled. "I still don't know really. Even after all this time."

Confused, she gave him a tilt of her head and continued to walk backwards. At the way her eyes went over him, Castiel stared back thoughtfully.

"What?"

"Not sure." Meg bit into her lower lip. "There's something strange about you."

He half-smiled. "I get that a lot."

Once she came up next to the Cougar parked in front of the store, Meg leaned back against it. As if unable to help the forward momentum, he stopped mere inches away and stared down at her. For a second, she had to wonder what he would look like if there were flames around them. Not even sure where that thought came from, she shoved it down and bit into her lower lip again. She was sure she'd seen him somewhere before and it actually hurt to try to focus on those hazy memories.

Damn, it was starting to nag at her and he had helped her the day before. She knew his face. Maybe if she played nice, like Linda was always telling her to, something would trigger her memory if she stayed in his company.

"I don't often do this but do you need a lift to see them? I didn't see you drive into town." As if worried he would get the wrong idea, she made sure to look like she was bored. "I mean, don't get me wrong. You try a thing and I'll beat the shit out of you. But it's a long walk and you did help me with those jerks at the bar."

Unexpected as that was, Castiel knew he had to say no to her offer. The more time he spent in her company, the deeper the crack in her disguise would go. The worse it would get and the likelier it was that something would split. Everything would go wrong so fast and he…

"I'd like that," he said before he could stop himself.

* * *

Booking a few rooms for the week, Dean and Sam had set about looking like tourists again. Trying to relax and failing miserably. They painted wards, put hex-bags in the walls, set out traps in the distant woods. Avoided Meg and her daughter, kept their heads low. They had even waited today until Meg was gone in her old car before they moved out from their rooms to get some work done.

The entire time, Sam could feel like there was something coming. Like a brush of shadow up against the back of his mind and he wasn't sure what it was. He hadn't felt that way in years. Not since…

Not since he'd let go of the demons blood had he felt such a strange surge in his buried psychic side.

Dean said nothing but he knew he felt it too. The small town was now just _too_ quiet.

Getting Linda Tran alone wasn't easy. She kept out of their way, made sure Meg and Nyx stayed away to the back of the house where she'd given them rooms. Even Kevin made a pretty studied attempt to never be around when they were in the house. No one wanted to talk to them.

Which was making Dean grumpier and grumpier as the hours and days passed.

It was Wednesday afternoon when the Winchesters came in from the woods, dirty and tired from circling the perimeter and found Linda waiting for them. The house had been empty earlier when they had left but now her car was parked out front and she looked like she wasn't in any hurry to leave. She was on her front porch with her laptop, curled into a big chair and crunching numbers as she always did, and when they came up the steps she barely looked up from the screen.

"You're tracking mud in. Shoes off if you're coming up here," she threatened while pointing her finger at them. Rolling his eyes, Dean toed off his combat boots and jerked his chin at Sam. His brother sat down on the steps instead and looked out.

"Where's Kevin?"

"Meg had to go in town for some reason and hasn't come home yet. He's taking care of Nyx for her." Looking up from her laptop, she squinted out at the afternoon sun. "See?"

Sam looked over his shoulder to see Kevin and Nyx making their slow way across the front yard. Nyx was jumping in the puddles left from when Dean had washed the Impala. For a minute, Kevin actually looked years younger as he played with her and tried to keep her from soaking herself.

"Nyxie, come on, stop that."

"Rain rain rain!" Nyx was chanting happily as she splashed him. Dean couldn't help but smile as she got Kevin with a splatter of mud on his face. The little girl screeched with laughter as he snatched her up and dangled her upside down, threatening to drop her in the puddle. Her polka-dotted rain boots kicked in the air as she fought against him.

Sometimes he forgot how young Kevin still was.

Sam, on the other hand, looked up as the first drops of rain started to hit. It had been sunny a moment ago and now suddenly it was overcast. Wiping a raindrop off his forehead, he looked back down at Nyx curiously.

"You've been avoiding us," Dean said to Linda. He saw Kevin whirl Nyx away and set her down. She gave him a kick in the shin and took off, hiding behind the Impala. Sam was smiling as he watched them. Almost wistfully, Dean thought.

"Yeah, well, when you two come around," Linda answered, "people tend to die."

"You're still alive, aren't you?" The sarcasm edging both their voices was almost playful and Sam rolled his eyes at them. He looked at them instead and Linda made note of something before speaking again.

"Have you two found anything out there or in town?"

"Nothing. Not a hint of demons or monsters. It's like this place isn't even on their marker," he explained for Dean. Leaning back against the railing, he wiped his muddy hands on his jeans. "Which makes next to no sense. Garth told us the monsters have been out in droves in other parts of the States and Canada."

"Yeah well, maybe something is keeping them away," Dean looked out at Nyx, "or someone."

"You think a three year old is keeping monsters away?" Linda gave him a skeptical glare. "She's three, Dean, almost four. A child."

"She's not a normal kid. I'm sure you've noticed something about her," Dean countered.

"I know you're expecting me to say she's different. But there's not much strange about her," Linda commented with a shrug. "She seems human enough."

"She's Cas' daughter, Meg's daughter. That's two big supernatural elements, Linda, something has to be different," Sam pointed out and Dean nodded, one eye on where he could see Kevin with Nyx in the front yard. They had crossed a bit further down the driveway to where Linda's car was parked. She was still playing hide and seek with him and Kevin was obviously getting tired of the game, leaning down on the hood of the car to wait for her.

"There has to be something."

"There's nothing. I read all those stories about Cambions Sam was sending me. She's nothing like them that I can tell. She's inherently good. She's just a child to herself and the rest of the world. If she has any sort of power, it is nothing I can tell." Linda twisted her fingers into nervous knots. "I just… maybe it is because of Castiel's spell on Meg. Maybe it had an aftereffect on Nyx."

"That still doesn't sound right. Cas even admitted before she was born she was strong enough to knock him out. I mean, Dean said that when Meg was carrying her she threw Lucifer to the other side of the world when he tried to kill them, and she did some pretty big damage. Why would that end just after she was born?"

"Maybe she needs them both as they were. I don't know." She closed her laptop and sat back in her chair. "I just worry about her. She's a sweet girl and if I can help keep her from realizing how messed up the world is she was born to, I will."

"So Castiel could be what drives her to go full on hybrid baby?" Dean asked dryly but Linda nodded as if that made sense.

"That actually makes more sense than what was thinking." She tapped her fingers on the closed case. "I worry about her but Meg worries me more. Something is starting to break in her. She's looking ready to run."

"That's not as strange as it could be," Sam said.

"I hate to point it out to both of you," Linda snapped, obviously not in the mood. "But if Meg takes Nyx and runs, what are the chances we can find her before the demons or angels?"

Both Winchesters looked down at their feet, chastised. Linda shook her head, annoyed with them yet again. She had done her best and they were so eager to find something, anything, that they could cause bigger problems. Ones with worse consequences.

As if answering the question for them, a low howl suddenly sang through the air. A faint sound that echoed around the nearby fields and Linda frowned. "We don't have wolves… or coyotes even. Must be those feral dogs I saw around here one time."

But Sam and Dean recognized that howl with the sort of horror of battle-weary soldiers. It sent chills up their spines and made them both flashback to other times; when one had ripped Dean apart, when Sam had nearly lost his life fighting one off. Even sight unseen, it was still enough to make them slip from brothers to soldiers in a heartbeat.

"You have to be kidding me," Dean whispered, standing up and forgetting he had no shoes on as he raced down the steps. He searched in his pockets, trying to find his keys as he ran for the Impala.

"What? What's going on?" Linda asked as the howl roared through the air again, like a wolf coming close on its hunt. But even she knew it wasn't a wolfish sort of howl. It was too loud, too rattling. Nothing from this earth made that sound.

"We got a problem, that's what is going on." Sam ran into the house and grabbed the shotgun he knew she kept tucked behind the fridge. Grabbing the box of ammo from the cabinet, he quickly ran out of the house, jumped over the railing and headed for the car. Dean was rummaging through the trunk, tossing things out to find what he needed.

"We still got 'em?" Sam asked as he traded the shotgun ammo for salt rounds. The gun was old but it would work for now and he loaded it up with skilled ease.

Dean grinned and tossed him a pair of safety glasses. "You called me a pack rat for keeping these things."

"Shut it." Sam put them on and spun on his heel, gun raised to his shoulder as he walked towards the other side of the house. The Holy Fire they had been seared with still seemed to be working as the world around him changed in colours and scope. Searching the trees edge, he scanned it with a careful eye for anything unusual but there was nothing in the brush.

"Got a car coming up," Dean called out as he turned a circle opposite Sam. Right now, to them any newcomer could be a threat.

"It's Meg," Linda called out. "I recognize the car."

"Meg… where's Nyx!" Sam shouted back, realizing that in the time that he had taken to get the shotgun the child was out of sight. Dean turned his head and signalled to the left, still keeping one eye on the perimeter close by where the howling had come from. He backed towards the car coming up the driveway as Sam sprinted around the yard to where Nyx and Kevin were still near Linda's car parked on the side of the driveway leading to the road.

If he was shocked to see Castiel in the passenger seat, Dean hid it well. He continued to back up even when Meg stepped out of the car and gave him a skeptical look.

"You guys playing nerd paintball or somethin'?" she asked. Reminding himself to be insulted later, Dean shook his head.

"We got wild dogs around here."

"Dogs?" She rolled her eyes. "Right."

She walked away from him before he could stop her, moving towards the porch, and he felt Castiel step close. "What the hell are you doing back here?" he hissed, scanning the trees.

"I…"

"Explain later. Dogs, Castiel."

"Dogs means that you wear glasses and use a shotgun?"

Dean gave him a frustrated look. "Big. Big. Hounds. Castiel." He enunciated each word slowly. The angel's easy going posture stiffened and he quickly looked around though he was no better at finding them if his desperate look was any sign.

"You mean to say…"

"Yeah. Looks like something's been set loose. Hopefully we can kill the bitch before it runs back to master or causes problems."

"Hopefully," Castiel agreed and his angel sword slid out to his hand.

The howling had stopped but as Dean turned, he noticed Sam backing towards them, waving Kevin to carry Nyx back towards the house. The little girl was unmindful of the tension, talking to him as they crossed the yard. Standing back to back with Castiel, Dean focussed on where he'd last heard the howling. The brush several hundred yards away was shaking rapidly and he licked his lips, finger caressing the trigger of his shotgun. Squinting through the purplish shimmer of the glasses, he waited.

"Come on, ugly."

The shaking stopped and a deer leapt out from the bushes. It paused, staring at them warily and he lowered his gun a little. "You gotta be kidding me," he whispered, nudging Castiel to look and even Sam looked frustrated as he went around the other side of the Cougar to see what had been making the noise. The angel glanced and frowned.

"But where's the…"

Something swept in, bringing with it the stench of sulphur and coppery decay and Sam flew to the side, bulldozed by the sheer weight and strength of it. As he rolled, the demon knife he'd been holding in his other hand flew to the side as well and he raised his shotgun, firing off a round blindly. He heard the beast screech and his head was smacked by a tail.

"Sam!" Dean shouted, sprinting for him as whatever had attacked him sprang off, just letting him see the strange colours shine off its hide. Castiel turned and was smacked into from the other side, sending him toppling into the Impala and he hissed in pain as he rolled to protect himself.

The loud snarling close to his ear made him wince as fetid breath poured over his skin, so hot that he felt sweat break out on his forehead in reaction. There were two, he registered, as something else breathed against the other side of his neck. Squeezing his eyes shut, he swiped out blindly with his sword and felt it sink in a little. The hellhound shrieked in pain and the first sank its teeth into his hand, the blade being shook from his grip before he could stop it. It stayed curved in the back of one but he couldn't grab it to force it deeper. Two paws dug into his chest and tore down, his coat protecting him from too much damage.

A child's scream made him open his eyes to see Kevin and Nyx in the yard, still trying to get to the house but now caught in the middle. The hold on his hand lessened and he heard Meg shouting something but the drumming in his ears wouldn't lessen so he could hear her; the blood in his body pounded through him as adrenaline tried to keep him alive. The teeth that had punctured his skin let go completely and he turned his head to see great gouts in the gravel being thrown up as the animals charged forward.

"_Nyx!"_

The sound of Meg's shouting was suddenly clear and he got to his feet, hearing Dean blasting off his shotgun. But whatever damage it did to the hellhounds was nothing as they raced forward, leaving gouges in the dirt. Kevin swung Nyx around behind him to protect her from what he knew was coming but he was grabbed by the leg and thrown to the side like a rag doll. They weren't after him. He rolled and slammed into the porch, head striking the corner of the steps. The hounds twisted and forgot him instantly as they stared at whom he had been protecting.

"Kevin!" Linda was starting down the stairs, not caring about the danger. But Castiel could only see Nyx, see her standing frozen in fear.

She was staring wide-eyed.

She could _see_ the creatures.

"Nyx!" he shouted, scrambling to get to his feet and the little girl turned to look at him. Something flashed in her face, like recognition when he called her name and he saw her eyes wide and terrified. She wasn't screaming but she was so afraid she was quivering. Her stuffed toy was lying untouched and soaked in mud. She continued to back up to where Linda was, the older woman calling for her to run. Then the gouts in the earth dug deeper and the beasts charged forward in unison. Like a matched set they were running for their prey and Nyx crouched down into a tiny ball as if to hide from them.

No matter his speed, Castiel wasn't sure he could get to her. His blade was gone, embedded in the back of one hellhound. He didn't have anything he could use on hell-beasts.

_No no no no no!_

Everything in him screamed though he didn't speak as he ran forward, Dean's shotgun blasts covering him. Sam was firing as well but the salt-rounds and bullets weren't having any effect on the hounds as they raced over the yard towards Nyx. Castiel reached for his Grace, wanting to stop time; something, anything to stop this from happening. But his Grace felt stuck, unable to be of use now when he needed it most. He called her name out again and prayed for help in the next breath.

Something faster than he was launched in front of his vision and tackled Nyx to the ground just as the hounds leapt. With a sickening crunch, four bodies went flying back into the rear of the Impala so that the trunk dented a little. Castiel stared, for a second so shocked he could only fall to his knees as his momentum left him.

The hellhounds continued to growl and roar at being put off their prey again.

Meg curled her body protectively around Nyx and rolled her beneath her heavier weight. She'd watched the whole scene as if stuck in some waking dream. It had been familiar. The hideous creatures, the howling, and the sight of people fighting… she hadn't been able to move a step off the porch.

Until she had seen them go for Nyx.

That had woken her and she knew what she had to do. She hadn't cared if she was killed and the creatures she could see were so terrible to behold that she knew they could kill her easily. But Nyx was clutching hold of her, sobbing at the pain of the impact, and she knew she had to protect her.

"It's ok," Meg said under the howls and snarls of the hounds as they clawed at her to try to get to Nyx. "I got you."

The little girl was starting to scream in fear and Meg closed her eyes. "Under the car, Nyxie. Stay there. I'll protect you."

Before the hounds could snap at the child, Nyx was shoved under the car for safety and Meg felt herself dragged away by the heavier of the hounds. What she saw was different from what the others would see. To her these were as real as the wild dogs or coyotes. But far more terrifying than any nightmare she could have had. Glowing eyes focussed down on her as rigid spines on the back rose in fury. The one straddling her perked its tiny bat ears a little, as if recognizing her, and then it snarled and its teeth swiped down.

Going on instinct, she slammed her fist up into the gaping jaws and shoved her arm into its throat. It shrieked at the unexpected blow and Meg screamed back at it, knee lifting and catching in its side. Her hand wrapped around its forked tongue and yanked hard, tearing at the appendage.

"Ugly bitch," she shouted and heard a shotgun blast. It hit the hound close to where her leg was and the second one that had been digging to try to get to Nyx took off running, giving up the hunt. But the one straddling Meg was clawing at her, trying to get her to let go of its tongue.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the men coming up but the hound's viciousness was verging on blind fury now. It wanted its prey and it wanted her dead.

A glint of metal spiked up from its back made Meg cling closer to it, stretching her fingertips up. But it was just out of reach, wedged there by the bunched sinewy muscle of the beast. "Come on," she whispered as the hellhound's claws sank into her shoulder and ripped deeply. She yanked her other hand out of its mouth and tried to keep it from ripping further into her softer body. The pain shrieking through her arm was ignored and she slammed her fist into its shoulder to get it to fall on top of her again.

She could hear Nyx's terrified sobs and that kept her from letting go.

Impossibly, as she focussed on the blade and imagined it coming to her, it wiggled free of the massive back it was buried into. The hilt of it dropped into her waiting fingers and she twisted it around just as the large jaws widened and dropped to snap at her throat. She sank the tip into the glowing eye and the hound screamed and whined at the pain, backing off but not letting her go. It half dragged her with it and Meg saw the men still shooting at it though it did them no good. Woman and beast were too tightly entwined for anyone to get between them.

Meg felt a strange calm come over her as she felt the sticky blood pour on her hands. Switching the blade around, she slashed down and the hound screamed again. She panted for breath and swung again, this time catching it in its vulnerable throat. The blade caught this time and using what strength she had left in her wounded arm, she yanked hard, slicing the beast from throat to its torso.

The sword sank deep into its heart and with a satisfying squelch it tore into the beating muscle. The hound stopped growling instantly and Meg heard its loud whine as she twisted to the left and split the heart in half. It took moments but the hound scrambled for what last bit of life it could find before its glowing eyes dimmed completely. With a loud defeated groan, the glowing eyes closed. It heaved before it lay sprawled atop her, still pumping out disgustingly black blood onto her body but now dead.

Meg's head sagged back on the blood-soaked gravel and she dizzily looked around. Still hiding under the car, Nyx was staring back at her, shaking in her fear and reaching out towards her with one hand. Meg stared back at her and smiled. "It's ok," she whispered and her head dropped to the side, eyes fluttering as she fell unconscious.

* * *

The hound that escaped raced the short distance back to its masters, spattered in blood and mud. The Crossroad demon sighed and squatted, patting its head. "Good dog."

It snapped tiredly at her hand and looked up at the man still standing.

"It went against orders," he said calmly.

"It saw an opportunity," Louise whispered and he shook his head.

"This is what passes for hellhound breeding. Disgusting. I wanted them alive. They were sent to scout and frighten. Not let them know someone was coming for them." He smiled. "But it did find her."

An angel sword appeared in his hand and without any warning he sunk it deep into the top of the hellhound's skull. The beast fell immediately and without any sign of emotion, he wrenched it back out and wiped it clean on his arm.

"I have work to do, it seems."

* * *

Castiel had stood in shock, not sure what he could or should do. He had been able to use his Grace to keep the hellhounds from toppling the car over, the weight of it stronger than them, but he hadn't been able to help like he could have. Meg had been so tightly wrapped around the hound she was fighting that to interfere meant he could kill her accidentally. He'd had to wait and he had watched and felt hopeless.

And she'd nearly died because of him.

"Cas, get over here!" Dean snapped from where he and Sam were trying to pull the hellhound off Meg. Shaking himself, the angel started forward, sparing a look for where Linda was helping Kevin stand, his injured leg oozing blood from its wounds. The prophet was staring at Meg and the car, wide eyed in pain.

But he didn't look shocked or afraid, like Sam and Dean.

Storing that away for further thought, he knelt down to help Dean with the dead beast. Its claws were half-embedded in Meg's leg, judging by the pressure still dragging on the wounds, and to just yank it off would cause more damage to her. Damage he didn't think he could risk healing. Not yet. Gingerly, he set about slowly taking each claw from her flesh with precise care.

If Dean noticed how he stroked a strip of uninjured flesh on her hand, he didn't say a word.

Sam crouched down low and peered under the car at the little girl hiding beneath it. The ground smelled disgusting from the hellhound blood and sulphur, but he managed to grin and bear it. She hadn't moved since Meg had collapsed and he had to get her out any way that he could.

"Hey there," he said, remembering to sound calm when all he wanted to do was curse up a storm as his hand dipped into a pile of black goo.

She lifted her head a little from the shelter of her arms and stared at him from large blue eyes. Her cheek was bruised and her arm scratched, but she looked more frightened than hurt.

"Remember me? I've been here before," he asked as he lay on his side. She nodded and he tried to get comfortable as he half wedged himself under the Impala close to her. Surprised he could fit, he tried to smile and not hit his head on the belly of the car. "Gonna come out?"

She shook her head and he saw her eyes go behind him. Sam didn't look away from her face but he knew what she was looking at.

"It's okay. Your mom killed it. She saved you."

Nyx's dark hair was matted around her face when she gave him a distrusting look. "Scared."

He only smiled. "Me too, kid. But you can't hide forever. We got to get your mom into the house but we can't leave you out here."

Nyx watched his hand stretch out between them as if she expected him to hurt her. She scrambled a little back.

"I promise, we'll protect you," he swore and he saw her eyes focus on his face. For a second, he was reminded of Castiel with the wariness she looked at him with. As if she was making a big decision for her. "Nothing is gonna hurt you with me around."

That seemed to convince her and she reached out to take his hand. Smiling, he helped her scramble out from underneath the car, both of them now soaked in mud and smelling of hellhound blood. Still crouching down in front of her, Sam checked her scraped knees and hands but found nothing too bad. She turned her hands over for him to see the scrapes and Sam shook his head, gently brushing the gravel off so it didn't hurt.

Dean was still barefoot and his feet were cut up from the gravel on the ground, but he looked more concerned with getting everyone in order than worrying about shoes. Everyone bore some sort of mark from the hellhounds but no one looked as badly roughed up as Meg. Sam looked at him, and then at the house before turning back to Nyx.

"You okay?" She nodded, her eyes still large and her lower lip trembling. He gave her a half smile as he stood up, staring down at her and feeling like a giant. "You were very brave. I would have run when I was little."

Before he could move, she took his hand and held on as if for him to protect her and Sam smiled again. He wasn't that easy around kids sometimes, Dean took to it better than he did, but she was being brave. Letting her hold onto him, he turned to see Dean carefully picking up Meg while Castiel handled the hellhound, folding its legs close to its body.

A tiny squeeze made him look down to see Nyx staring wide-eyed at the corpse. She looked up at him and he realized that she could see it. Deciding to pretend he could as well, he frowned and shook his finger at the dog.

"Bad dog," he said and she hesitantly nodded along with him.

"Bad dog," she parroted and reached out to kick it. Her boot made the thing's bloody side squelch and she cried out as the dead hound rolled a little towards her, hiding behind him. Sam grinned, patting the top of her head, and looked up to see Castiel staring at her from where he knelt beside the hound. An odd mixture of hurt and fear was on his face, but when he looked up at Sam he smiled thankfully at him.

For a moment, Sam nearly felt bad for the angel. He obviously wanted to comfort his daughter but he couldn't risk it.

But that had been his choice and that kept Sam from being too easy on him. Instead, he focussed on Nyx and noticed how gingerly she was walking. As if she was afraid the hound was going to come to life and bite her.

"You want me to carry you?" he asked Nyx and the little girl nodded, holding up her arms. She held on tight as he lifted her up and let her sit on his hip. There was such a human fear in her that Sam let himself hug her back a bit. He could remember holding her as a baby once, and how protective both Dean and him had been of her though they weren't even her parents. Now he felt that old protectiveness surging right back. This little girl had seen something no child should ever see.

"You're tall," she blurted out, looking down at the ground if she was at a great height. With childish innocence, she was trying to make herself feel better and Sam knew she was doing it to try to forget about Meg.

"Yep. I'm a giant."

Her blue eyes went to his face. "You're a giant!"

Sam chuckled and was surprised how easy it was after what had just happened.

He followed Dean into the house and noticed Castiel disappearing to the back, still dragging the hellhound. Likely to perform an angelic autopsy if he knew him. Linda helped Kevin limp into the house and once they were inside, Sam set Nyx on his hip and quickly drew a small demon ward on the side of the door with his own blood. What good it would do he didn't know; but he had to do something.

Nyx watched and didn't say a word but he had the feeling she knew what he was doing. There was an eerie watchfulness about her right now, something that reminded him of Lilith in a vague way. But she lacked that evil air. She was simply knowing that something was different.

"You want to see your mom?" he asked instead and she nodded, looking over his shoulder to the front window. He followed her gaze and saw that she was watching Castiel continue to drag the hellhound around the side of the house.

* * *

Furious with himself and whoever had set it loose, Castiel let the hellhound burn. No burial, not even bothering to hide it. He took it out to the woods and scorched its body with his own Grace. Smoke and fire leapt to the sky and he felt nothing but hatred for it.

Naturally, that attracted attention.

"Really, a light show, at this time of day?"

Crowley's voice should have made him turn to put on the defence but there was no reaction from the angel. He simply stared at the smouldering body and waited until the demon stood next to him. Crowley blinked at the sight of the beast.

"I thought a hellhound was up here." He leaned close. "Not one of my breeding pack I hope. Very…" he sniffed it, "rotted."

"One of your demons is unleashing hellhounds and you aren't aware of it."

"Correction, sweetums, before you get your wires crossed. I'm not King of Hell anymore; I'm the King of the Crossroads. I don't have much control over them these days. Beyond the odd deal here and there and the necessary 'my gonads are bigger than yours' show and tell, that sort of thing." He leaned back. "But I did hear rumour of one of my star deal makers going missing. Which begs two questions."

Crowley stepped around in front of him so that the angel had to focus on him instead of staring at the hound. "Why did she come up here? And who called her? Naturally, the why concerns me far more at the moment."

"I don't care about either. This thing attacked the Winchesters," Castiel lied easily and Crowley shrugged.

"Can you blame it? They killed how many over the years? Maybe the beasts are becoming family oriented after all though for your sake I would hope that they don't start running in bigger packs more often." He tapped his bearded cheek. "Unless…. unless it found something. Or had been sent to find something. You see, I have been far too busy with matters of Hell and survival to bother, but it is possible a demon took initiative." He grinned. "That does tend to get promotions with me, though Abaddon executes them in the end."

"If I find that you are setting hellhounds loose on the Winchesters or their friends," Castiel began and Crowley scoffed.

"You'll what?"

"I'll make you wish I was no longer an angel."

Their gazes met, clashed, and Crowley looked away first. "I came to warn you. Monsters are on the move. In exchange for some… information, they took their Mother back to Purgatory."

Castiel caught him by the throat and launched them across the woods until he had the demon pinned to a tree. Crowley squeaked and fought against the tight hold.

"No need for such foreplay, darling."

"You let their Mother go with them, knowing the damage they could do."

"Trapped in Purgatory, none of them can get out without a human soul or someone with the power and the know-how anyway. Even if they get into Hell… we'll be golden." Crowley choked as Castiel tightened his grip.

"The only reason why I've let you live this long is because you were either of use or because I could never catch you. Go and leash all of your hounds. If I see you near the Winchesters, I'll do what I should have done years ago."

"Yeah," Crowley's eyes clicked to red. "What's that?"

"I'll tie you up and let your dogs tear you apart. Slow."

The demon stared at him at the threat. "What got up your arse?"

"Do you understand me?" Castiel shouted and for once Crowley lost his smarmy charm and casual grin. He nodded and Castiel let him go slowly. There was nothing of the quiet angel Crowley had manipulated once. As he stared up at him and stared under the human face, he knew he was looking at a soldier.

It was almost terrifying even for a demon his age.

Castiel waited until he was sure Crowley was gone before he sagged back against the tree and rolled his eyes to the sky. He prayed for strength and received no answer. He hadn't expected to. He knew he was on his own again in this matter.

* * *

_She was in the presence of God. Not some false god but her God. He'd come to her in dreams, whispered to her of rewards if she gave him her faith, obedience and love. Let her feel fire if she chose to disobey and let her feel warmth if she obeyed. Shown her visions of Heaven that had soothed her of the pains of Hell. He had rewarded her for her service to Azazel by leading her to this beautiful girl who resembled, in a dark mirror sort of way, what she had resembled long ago; before the pain and torture had taken her from victim to warrior. A girl that maybe Azazel had known of, maybe not. She hadn't fought her possession; she'd welcomed it. _

_Damn it, she thought lovingly as she approached her god. She had caged the enemy and could almost feel their blood on her hands. Taste their fear._

_But as she rounded the corner, she caught a glimpse of something that glowed even brighter than the circle of flames._

_An angel._

_Disgustingly beautiful with what she could see just glowing off of him like some ridiculous halo he still wore, and she saw him as hideous because of it. He lacked the cold, naked shadows of a demon, lacked any real crackle of wickedness that could attract her. So righteous she could smell it on him._

_The angel's eyes fixed on her hatefully and she grinned back._

_All that righteousness was worth nothing. He would be nothing in the end. She would go to Heaven, learn what it was his God's endless, hypocritical rules had kept her from. See his wings torn from him and his righteous glare turned to anguish._

_**What can you do, you impotent sap…**_

_Then the dream distorted, just a little, and something changed as the fire that separated them dimmed a little. His form became clear. Strange because the angel and the man began to blend together thoroughly, though his face stayed blurred to her. As if it had been smudged about to unrecognizable lines and curves, with only his eyes and the curve to his mouth the most distinguishable parts of him. Those blue eyes softened and the look turned from hate to affection. Stupidly, all she could do was stare. A head tilt he had as he smiled at something she must have said was both absurd and engaging on a man of his meatsuit's age._

_**"All that thorny pain… so beautiful…"**_

_Suddenly, she knew that voice intimately, knew what he really was and that she should be disgusted by such light. But she wasn't. Impossibly, she knew him. As if recognizing her as well, his shining Grace stretched out between them through the shadows. It twined around her and warmed her ice-cold skin._

_With a twist, the darkness inside of her rubbed up against the Grace like a pet to a beloved owner, begging to feel the burn of his light. Knowing it as if it was part of her darkness. Making them shadows of each other. She had been cared for, healed… Marked by that light._

_It was why, no matter how strange her dreams had been before, this time she woke screaming._

* * *

"Calm down."

The raspy voice kept Meg from jerking too fast out of bed and she opened her eyes to see herself surrounded. Her vision was blurry but she could recognize their outlines. Her bed was surrounded by people. There was a heady smell of sulphur in the air and she felt sticky and disgusting from sweat and tried blood. When she lifted her hand, she saw that her arm was bandaged from shoulder to wrist and her other hand was just as tightly bound. The ache that throbbed up her side made her remember what had happened.

_The strange beast, the blood, the fear and anger._

Almost immediately as the memory hit her, she rolled to her side and threw up into the trashcan someone had put by the side of the bed.

A hand went over her back to soothe her and she trembled nervously under the touch.

"Easier to just let her get it all out. It's just shock," a voice instructed and she sucked in a deep breath, groping for her bedside table. The hand on her back passed her a glass of water and she clutched it thankfully. She drained the water greedily, letting it even dribble out of her mouth, to get rid of the rancid taste in her mouth before she rolled back over and met a pair of blue eyes.

Something about those eyes sparked a memory and made her ready to be sick again.

"We brought you up here. You had an episode, Linda says," someone else said. Henry or whatever his name was. The man with green eyes. Everything in her memory felt so hazy now. She hurt so much.

"I… What was that thing?" she asked.

No one answered her and finally someone else said, "Wild dog."

"Big wild dog," Meg said sleepily.

"You need some rest," was the only answer she got as her hand was patted over the gauze. "Take these. They'll help with any pain."

More pills, she registered even though she was ready to drop off again. For once, she felt like falling fast asleep and never waking up no matter the bad dream. Her body still felt so sore and exhausted as she sagged back on the pillows, her bound arms stiff but feeling empty.

"Nyx?" she called out on instinct.

With a scuffle of sound, a familiar warm body suddenly leapt onto the bed beside her and tucked into her side. Meg felt her eyes drooping lower as the little girl wrapped herself around her, careful not to touch her injuries. Nyx tucked herself in tight and put her hand on Meg's. Normally Meg tried to keep Nyx from sleeping in her bed unless she had permission but it felt good.

Oddly, it felt like her presence was erasing the pain.

When the light clicked off, she knew they were alone and she let her eyes close so she could fall asleep again.

* * *

Castiel closed the door on the sight of Meg and Nyx curled up on her bed, buried under comforters and lit up only by the few night-lights they had left on for the child. It had been so tempting to stay and watch over them, to let himself have a few moments. The terror of the past few hours, of watching Dean wrap up Meg's wounds and waiting for her to show the slightest sign of waking up, had barely eased. He had felt her dreams; he didn't know what they were about but as he had watched her face he had seen the slight crack that went through her body seem to actually deepen and grow more obvious to him. She had been distressed and though he didn't know if she wanted him to stay there, he wanted to be here again.

But there were more important things to worry about.

He followed them all to the first floor and waited patiently. Watched all of them and wondered that they were all still alive and whole. But his attention was slowly dragged to Kevin and he knew the prophet was hiding something when he downed two beers in a row, his injured leg propped up on another chair. Kevin always refused to be healed these days anyway and the way Castiel stared at him made him drink faster.

Linda finished helping Sam line the windows and doorways with salt before she realized that Castiel was staring at Kevin.

"Something wrong with his face?" she asked curiously and Kevin shrugged as if to tell her he didn't know why Castiel was watching him. Sipping on a beer and cleaning his gun, Dean gave them both a look and waited.

"You knew something," Castiel said instead of bothering to be polite. Kevin looked up at him and set his own bottle down.

"Me? About what? Hellhounds?"

"I watched you, Kevin. You were afraid but you weren't surprised to see those hounds. I could read it in your face." Castiel slowly crossed his arms over his chest and, from where he was sitting, Dean could see that he was furious.

"Why would I know anything?" Kevin whispered but there was something in his voice that drew Linda's attention.

"Kevin, did you know?"

"I didn't know anything!" he shouted.

Before he could get up and storm out, Castiel moved fast. In a blur, he was in front of Kevin, pinning him to the wall beside the stove. He ignored Dean's protests and Linda's shouts of fury, even when her hand smacked him on the back. He focussed totally on Kevin and his gaze was sharp and knowing.

"What are you hiding, Kevin? How did you know?" he demanded lowly.

"Does it matter? It happened! We're all alive!" Kevin shouted at him and Castiel lifted him close so their noses touched.

"Meg and Nyx were nearly killed!"

"That matters to you now?" The prophet's voice was almost shrill and when Castiel slammed him into the wall he groaned in pain.

"I brought them here to protect them. Did you know? I won't ask you again!" the angel yelled back at him. Something in his voice, and being faced with a furious angel, made Kevin almost fold up childishly.

"This is stupid, Castiel." Linda smacked the back of his head again, ineffectively. "There is no way…"

"I knew."

Her son's voice, quiet and grave, made her look at him incredulously. "Kevin?"

"I saw it. It was like a dream or a prophecy. It's why I came home. I knew it was coming. I knew I had to be here but I didn't know why exactly. I never saw what happened to lead into it. I simply kept dreaming it… I would see Nyx snatched or Meg ripped apart or…."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Sam asked as he came into the room beside Dean. Both brothers abandoned their weapons, ready to act if they had to.

"I couldn't." He closed his eyes. "I dreamed it. I can't tell people what I dream. I can't."

"Why?" Dean asked, confused.

"These are from God. I just know that if I tell people, the future changes. Or I'm killed. It's my duty and my burden. I have to keep them to myself until He tells me otherwise, to try to help the future. Meg is a demon, it would take more than that to kill her! They are safe!"

Castiel released him just a little. "Meg's body thinks of itself as a human. She is vulnerable to every human death possible unless her true self wakes up. If they had died, Kevin, I would have killed you. Slowly. I would forget I was sworn to protect you."

The prophet's eyes met his and he could see the strange orangey glow tingeing the edges of the brown. The glow of a prophet.

"I would have let you. But I have to follow my mission, my duty. Didn't you tell me that once?" he countered and Castiel shook his head. He looked disgusted with the prophet before he let him go completely and walked out of the room. Dean heard the flutter of cloth and knew that he had left them alone.

Though he suspected he wasn't too far away.

Kevin nervously looked at them all but it was his mother's stare that made him close his eyes and sink down onto his buttocks on the floor.

"Oh, Kevin."

"They were ok. I can't… I couldn't tell you all because I didn't even know if it was real!" He put his head in his hands and shook a little. "I have to bear this."

Dean went to say something but Linda waved her hand to keep him quiet. Dean grabbed Sam instead and slowly pulled him out of the room to give the mother and son privacy. Knowing her as well as they did, both brothers knew Kevin would be handled as only a mother could.

"Kevin," Linda started and then stopped herself. She crouched down in front of him. "I'm… I don't know what to say."

"I'm a prophet, Mom, that doesn't make me responsible for the world," he snapped, going to move but she reached out and kept him still.

"You took Nyx out to play, knowing a Hellhound was going to find you. Why would you do that?"

"It had to be done," he whispered. "He told me it had to be."

"Who?"

"God." He looked feverish, wearing the sort of look of a fanatic touched by too much power. "He spoke to me. It has been years but he…"

"Sweetheart, I think you need to understand something so listen to me. That little girl adores you and she trusts you. You took her out with you to the yard, knowing it could happen. Knowing what was to come. Nyx could have been killed if Meg and the others weren't there." She shook her head and looked down at his hands as if she was picturing the blood there. "How could you live with yourself if you had known that could happen but didn't tell anyone?"

He gave a humourless chuckle. "Come on, Mom, it… it ended well. Leave it at that." It was when she sighed in an almost defeated way that he realized she wanted to say more. "What?"

"I just…" She stood up and folded her arms across her chest. "I don't think I've ever been more disappointed in you, Kevin. I don't think I even can see my son in you. You're not the caring boy I knew, the one who would never see a child hurt. For anything."

He blinked and stared as she walked out of the room, leaving him on the floor. Kevin rolled his eyes to the ceiling, where directly overhead Meg's room was, and thought of trusting blue eyes and a child he almost thought of as family now. Three years ago, he would have fought God's will. Now because of one small vision, one moment, he'd been willing to push that aside.

_God… why?_

Choking down a sob, he put his head on his knees and shook.

* * *

It was wrong to stay here. Castiel could almost hear the arguments from all of them and they would be right. But after the attack of the hellhound, he couldn't leave yet. Meg had actually seen the beast, which meant that more of the spell was cracking. Nyx had seen it as well, and the Lord knew what that meant for them all. The entire time, he realized how much fear he could feel for them, how powerless he had felt because he couldn't act as he know he should, all for the sake of keeping Meg hidden in that spell.

He knew what he had felt when watching Meg fight the hellhound to keep it off of Nyx.

Pride and fear for her.

His demon. Always the protector even if she didn't know it. He knew that Crowley had likely noticed his emotions were rubbed raw, would know that something was bothering him. But he had come back anyway.

He couldn't leave without watching over them for a while.

Staying invisible was easy. He'd watched Dean and Sam leave, likely to check for more hellhounds and to get gas in town, waited for Linda to go to bed, and with a sort of grudging dislike he had watched Kevin slowly, steadily, drink himself into a stupor in the front room as he watched television. Like a steady shadow, Castiel had followed them all before going to where he wanted to be.

Finding Meg awake had been a surprise. Awake and awkwardly re-wrapping her wounds. His fingers had itched to touch her, to help her, but he had kept himself seated on the windowsill across from her. He'd stayed with her the entire time as she picked up the sleepy girl from her bed and took Nyx for a bath; waited as Meg scrubbed grime and hellhound blood off her skin until she was fresh and clean.

The gentleness she had for Nyx was so strange, compared to the demon he remembered. The little girl had been so tired that Meg had cleaned her up and dressed her in pyjamas without any protests. Castiel knelt beside Meg, nothing more than a shadow sitting just beside Meg and watching them both. Listening to Meg's low murmuring and his daughter's sleepy grumbling, he let the domestic scene wash over him and give him some sense of calm.

He was able to take peace from it now though he knew he should leave.

Meg picked up the stuffed unicorn from the sink, where Sam had put it to drip dry after washing it. "Sorry, kiddo. I'll have to get Linda to repair him."

"Okay," Nyx whispered, her voice tiny. Meg stared into her face thoughtfully and Castiel found himself staring as well. Nyx hadn't looked at him once earlier and he wondered what she had seen during the hellhounds' attack. Her terror had been so real and she had clung to Linda and Sam for a while. That had stung deeply and he had had to remind himself it was for the best for now. He had longed to hold her himself, the way he had when she had been a newborn scared of this world. When their connection had been so deep, she knew that he would protect her.

Knowing what it could cost him, he hadn't held her like he wanted to.

But the urge was still there, stronger than ever.

"You okay, Nyxie?" Meg asked. The girl nodded and reached out so Meg would pick her up. Grunting against the pain in her bandaged side, Meg held her tight and held the unicorn with her other hand. "Come on, you can sleep in your own bed tonight. It's almost Thursday, baby girl. We can watch the stars tomorrow night if you want. We're gonna miss the one a.m. watching this time around."

"Monsters were gonna eat you."

"No, they weren't. It was just bad dogs."

Castiel knew her memory was already hazy over it and sighed, relieved that she might forget it completely. They could be safe for a little while longer.

"Thursday is a new day. Good things happen on Thursdays," Meg continued as she carried her down the hall to her small room near the rear of the house. The large windows put so much light in the room that Castiel knew she'd not be scared of the dark.

Invisible to them still, Castiel leaned against the door and watched as Meg set her down on the bed. She set the toy down on the small chest at the end of the bed and pulled the blankets back for her. Nyx was still too pale in her fear, her blue eyes big and round. She was exhausted and, judging by Meg's visible wincing, her mother wasn't too far behind.

"Scary monsters," Nyx whispered as she crawled to the head of the bed and let Meg fix the covers on the bed around her. She was twisting her fingers into knots, her freshly washed hair curling already. Castiel moved through the room but she didn't see him, even when he sat on the other side of her bed and watched her. His eyes went to Meg's face and he saw such open affection in her smile - _love_, he realized- that he almost forgot to breathe. Meg had never looked so easily affectionate; never with him or anyone else. She was so devoted to Nyx.

She had been the right choice to protect her.

"Scary monsters gonna eat us," Nyx repeated.

Meg smiled and picked up a sock monkey from the floor to tuck in beside her instead of the torn unicorn. "You got it, Nyx. You ok?"

"Scared."

Meg sat down and gave her daughter a look, her eyes on her face. "Pretty sure I'm scarier than any monster, huh? You saw what I did to that thing. No one will hurt you because I'm a scary monster even angels would be scared of."

She made a mock growl sound and snapped her teeth playfully.

Castiel smiled as he listened to Nyx give a tiny giggle. He could see her slowly accept that Meg would protect her and a part of him he thought he had buried slowly warmed to the thought of being here with them. It didn't matter that he was an angel or Meg a demon; he'd made his choice years ago with her. The urge to reach out and just touch both of them was so strong he clenched his fingers and looked away

Muttering that she was sleepy, Nyx tucked herself down and bundled herself up tightly. She was so deeply buried in the down comforter that all Castiel could see of her was her dark hair peeking out. It was as if she was hiding from the world to protect herself. Meg waited patiently until she was sound asleep, which didn't seem to take long, before she patted the bundle gently and stood up.

"I wont let anyone hurt you. We only got each other. You're my cause," Meg whispered. The choice of words made Castiel stare at her, hearing the same sort of devoted fierceness she had for him once. Judging by the look on her face, it was obvious that Meg found her choice of words just as disturbing. He stood and followed Meg to the door, still invisible to her.

As she moved to turn out the lights, she passed his unseen form and he reached out, fingers brushing her own. The soft breeze it caused, the feel of her fingers, sent a rush of warm feeling through him. He saw her shudder, her eyes darting around the room with the sort of quick darting glance of a born soldier looking for a threat. She seemed to look straight at him and he leaned down, wanting so desperately to touch her.

If he had been visible to her, they would have been just an inch from their mouths touching, from his hands touching her.

"You know I'm here," he whispered in his true-voice so she wouldn't actually hear him. The windows quivered from the pressure but he kept his eyes on Meg. Incredibly, he saw her wince in reaction to his voice and he heard behind her Nyx talking in her sleep.

Whispering a hello.

She had _heard_ him.

He automatically pulled back and cursed himself for being an idiot. This wasn't a game, he wasn't some lovesick angel; all of this had been done to save them and he was risking it all. After Meg turned out the lights, he followed her through the halls. That they both could feel him meant that the spell Death had given him from the Lethe was cracking further. Meant that he needed to keep his distance. Leave them alone and find a way to make their protection last.

Only he didn't know how. Eons of life, knowledge well beyond any human, and he was at a loss.

_Maybe_, some darker part of him whispered, _it's because you don't want to find a way._

Hating that that part of him was likely right, he knew it was time to leave. To go anywhere else but here, and think about what to do. Though it took him longer than he expected, Castiel disappeared before he was tempted to follow Meg into her bedroom.

* * *

"Not a single thing in town or in the country side," Dean muttered to himself as he drove an even thirty down the back roads. "Where the hell did that thing come from?"

"Well, hellhounds always come because they are ordered or have a demon unleashing them. But we both know Crowley won't do that on a whim." Sam was folding the map back up and he shoved it back under the seat before picking up his chip bag. "He's on a tight leash from Abaddon as it is."

"So what if it isn't him? Someone else let the dogs out?"

Sam resisted the urge to groan at the attempted joke. "Ok. Let's roll this back. Since we got here, Meg and Nyx were attacked by hellhounds. But nothing else. So what if someone set that dog out to look for her but didn't know what to look for?"

"Hellhounds aren't really beagles, Sammy," Dean countered. "Someone had to have an idea."

"The one left. Maybe they had orders to hold back. Only certain demons can control them that way. Remember Meg when she controlled them? They followed her orders to stay unless attacked. Crowley could order them to stay and to attack."

Dean didn't like being reminded of either situation. "So?"

"So we have a big name player who isn't Crowley, isn't Abaddon. Crossroads wouldn't have any interest in this, not really."

"Running out of high level demons though." Reaching over, Dean took a few chips out of Sam's bag. "We keep offing them."

"Maybe it is someone we wouldn't expect."

"Like?"

"I didn't think that far ahead." Sam sighed and leaned back. "I just… A kid who is that little shouldn't see hellhounds, Dean. We did so much to protect her, them, and now we have to think of something new."

"So we move them? Maybe get them to Garth's protection program? He can get them somewhere. Maybe Canada or something."

"I get the feeling that might not work. But we can try."

Dean looked up at the sky, seeing the stars and moon showing through the trees. "Well, one good thing?" He looked over at Sam. "That hellhound would go back licking its wounds. Anyone would take one look at the damage and think they aren't gonna screw with us."

"Yeah." Sam frowned and looked out the window. "Hopefully."

* * *

Kevin drank until his head spun and his tongue felt numb… and then drank even more. It felt good to feel numb for a while. The static white noise in his head, the insane pressure of being what he was, all of it could be killed for a few precious hours with the bitter bite of alcohol. Even the hangovers were worth it because it gave him something else to focus on for just a little while.

The whispers, the prophecies, the vast knowledge he now had stuck in his head could shut the hell up for all he cared.

But for once, the numbness didn't quite erase what he felt.

Guilt was something that never died.

It was easy to erase the Winchesters, the hunters, the angels, and the demons, all of them, with a few shots of good whisky. But he couldn't shut out the fact that a little girl who trusted him like her big brother had nearly been killed today. The one good thing he'd cared about since his mother had been brought to Arkansas, since she'd become the caretaker to a hidden demon and child, had been Nyx. And he'd let her down.

He had let his mother down.

Groaning, he got to his feet and clicked the television off. The entire room swam before his eyes and he leaned heavily against the wall as he made his way up the stairs to his bedroom. The guest rooms were to the left but he knew this house well. Be so easy to find his bedroom.

His head just hurt so much. He only felt this much pain when he was about to get a vision.

* * *

Castiel sat in a park in the north end of the town and stared up at the sky from his spot on a park bench. He could easily remember the jokes of each angel having a day. Leave it to religion to do such a thing. But oddly, Thursdays always were his better days. Maybe it was because he felt like it gave him responsibility and a sense of duty. Or maybe not. Maybe he simply assumed it did.

But since he had left the house, Castiel had felt a wrongness he hadn't felt before. Like something was about to turn over and change.

He shouldn't be thinking about going back. He should be going to Heaven, distracting the angels again as he thought up some plan. Some way of hiding them.

But he was already standing up. He was already bending his will to fly back to the house to watch over them all.

When he turned to face the house's direction, Death stood just behind him. No warning, no flicker of power to even announce his arrival. He simply blinked at him owlishly, one hand holding his cane and the other holding his bag.

"You nearly lost control of the situation, Castiel. Thank your Father that your demon is so… self-sufficient. Even though she thinks she is a human."

Knowing that Death had been watching made Castiel realize how much worse that fight with the Hellhound could have gone. Had he been waiting to take a soul?

"Why are you here?"

"I have investments; and people do die in this town, believe it or not. Perhaps I even have a word of advice." Castiel stepped back as the entity smiled at him. "Humans are vulnerable. Demons are not."

The angel stared at him. "What?"

"How else would a soul be woken from the Lethe? Death begets more death… and sometimes rebirth."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I could just be stalling you," Death admitted. "Or I could just be concerned that when the time comes you won't be willing to do what it takes." He leaned forward and tapped his cane on the ground as he grinned at Castiel. "Try to prove me wrong. For once, if you will."

With a snap he was gone, leaving Castiel more confused than before.

* * *

Lying awake in her bedroom, Meg stared at the ceiling and wondered why she had felt like someone was watching her. The feeling had left an hour ago but it was so deep under her skin now that she could feel it crawling over her like a physical touch. She could have sworn someone had been in the room with her. At least Nyx was just in the other room, safe. The entire house was quiet except for the occasional creak of floorboards and doors that she dismissed as Kevin moving around.

The vision of those strange hellish beasts attacking her and Nyx was still so vivid even when she closed her eyes. She knew those creatures. They weren't dogs like Linda or the others had told her. They weren't nightmares, they were… were…

_Hellhounds_.

Rolling her eyes, Meg put a pillow over her head and dismissed that name as stupidity. She was exhausted. She was imagining things and voices now. She just needed a few more hours of rest and she'd deal with it in the morning.

* * *

Kevin didn't bother to turn on his light as he happily staggered into his bedroom, toeing off his shoes and kicking them into his closet. Drunkenly, he chuckled at the sound they made when they slammed into the wall. Maybe his mom would wake up and yell at him some more.

_I could use some more of her disappointment in my life, _he thought angrily.

He fell face first onto his bed and sighed as the comforting softness cushioned the impact. This felt so good, he thought. He could sleep, get a nice massive hangover, and try to forget the past few hours. Easy. He'd done it before after all.

Rolling onto his back, he put his arm behind his head and sighed. The room was still spinning even with his eyes shut and his stomach turned over at the sensation. The dizziness was nothing. That was comforting actually. It distracted him.

Kevin smiled and let his other hand rest on his stomach as he breathed in and out deeply. It would be easier to think about in the morning. He could think of something, anything, to make his mom see the right of what he had done. He could even play with Nyx and get her to forget what had happened. In the morning. Kevin let himself start to drift asleep, knowing it would be okay in the morning.

_Drip._

Something warm and wet dropped onto his hand.

It felt like a raindrop.

_Drip._

Kevin immediately thought of the roof repairs that had been done last summer. The air actually smelled coppery now, which could mean a busted pipe. Maybe it was a bad contractor. But knowing his mom, that wasn't likely. Maybe…

_Drip_.

Another drop. Just as warm and wet as the first ones. It smeared down his hand as it dribbled and he twitched as more droplets began to sprinkle down on him, starting to hit his stomach and legs. If he ignored the water, maybe it would just go away, he drunkenly thought before taking in a deep breath. The stench of sulphur suddenly crept into his nostrils, joining the copper rich odour, and hesitantly he opened his eyes.

Only to see his mother staring down at him from the ceiling.

Her eyes were wide and lifeless, her pinned body in a strange parody of crucifixion where she was splayed on the ceiling. The blood was dripping from her body onto his. Her mouth was open as if she was about to scream and Kevin opened his own mouth, wanting to cry out loud.

"Mom?" he whispered instead. He couldn't find it in him to scream. He had never seen this. This could be a new vision. It had to be a new vision.

_But this was too real. It had never felt this real!_

"Mom?" he whispered again, like a broken child, as his eyes stayed on her face and more droplets of blood joined the others on his face. Her eyes never blinked and her mouth never closed. Linda's head was tilted at an odd angle and the gaping wound in her stomach was what was dripping blood onto him. "Mom?"

Kevin could only stare in horror and fascination. Praying that this was a dream. A prophecy that this time he could prevent. But under the hope he knew. He knew this was real.

He finally screamed, howled at her to not be dead. Called her name.

As if echoing his scream, he heard the snarl and roar of fire igniting and the ceiling lit up in flames at the edges her body. It surrounded her and lit her body up, smoking flesh and burning hair joining the sulphurous odours. The flames roared loud and he felt a blast of heat as it curled around her and began to devour her flesh.

All the while, she looked down on him with dead, accusing eyes.

_You should have seen this, Kevin, _a voice, evil and demonic, whispered in his mind.

"NO! MOM!" he screamed and he shot up in the bed. The fire alarm began screaming and Kevin screamed with the sound. The fire was starting to slither across the ceiling to the curtains and electrical unit, but Kevin couldn't move even when the lights exploded. Insanely, he reached out as if to grab her hand from the ceiling, to pull her free from the flames engulfing her body. He didn't care that he was inhaling lungfuls of black smoke. He had to save her. He had to earn her forgiveness.

Still she stared down at him.

"MOM!"

The door to his bedroom crashed open and through the growing thick smoke he saw Dean. The hunter looked up, his mouth half-open in shock before he recovered. Instinct took over and he launched himself at Kevin to pull him off the bed, just as the ceiling caved, a wood beam splintering his bed in half and bringing Linda's body with it. Protectively hovering over the younger man, Dean looked up at the door just as Sam skidded in and took in the scene as the entire room became engulfed in flames.

Both brothers recognized it with horrifying memory.

"Find Meg! Make sure they are safe!" Dean shouted and he yanked Kevin up into his arms, slinging his arm over his shoulders. He ignored the way Kevin fought against him, struggling to stay. "Come on, kid."

"I have to save her!" the prophet shouted hysterically and Dean shook his head, able to tell that Kevin was going to fight him. He let him go but before Kevin could move he punched him across the jaw, knocking him out. Cursing the fire that was already starting to come towards him, Dean slung the smaller man over his shoulders and ran for the steps.

Sam threw open doors to the rear of the house and heard the hiss of fire following him. The halls were already smoke filled and he could smell the sulphur in the house. He wondered, heart banging hard in his chest, if it meant that whoever had been in the house had attacked Meg and Nyx. What if they had been taken or killed while they were out?

"Meg!" he shouted and he slammed into her just as he rounded the corner to her bedroom. She was already dressed and looking confused. When he opened his mouth to tell her to run, she looked over his shoulder and saw the flames climbing along the ceiling behind him. Sam slammed the door shut to buy them some time and turned back to her.

"You have to get out of here."

Meg shoved him out of her way and ran for the room next to hers and shouldered the door open.

Nyx was still in her massive bundle of blankets, sound asleep. Meg tossed the blanket to the side, and Sam quickly grabbed what warm clothing he could from Nyx's small dresser, pausing to even grab the ruined unicorn for her. His mind worked fast, calculating the distance of the fire and the back of the house and he saw the open window. If they had to jump…

Meg shook her daughter awake just as the fire alarms in the old house began to wail. "Nyxie? Wake up. We need to run."

The little girl was awake immediately. "Monsters?"

Meg went to say no but Sam saw no point in lying. "Yeah, Nyx. Monsters. Come on." He moved Meg out of the way and scooped her up, tossing Meg the bag he had grabbed. "Stay close," he ordered over his shoulder as he ran out the door and down the stairwell.

She was like a shadow, nearly tripping over his feet as they wove their way through the burning house. Nyx clung to his neck and Sam held her tighter to keep her from falling, all the time wondering if they were about to be attacked. The way the house was built meant that it took the fire longer to get to the main level and he made sure to keep both of them close to him.

"What happened?" Meg asked, choking on more smoke.

"The other bedrooms are on fire." He couldn't, didn't want to think of what had just happened. They had seen the flames just starting as they pulled into the driveway and some instinct had made them run into the house. He focussed on what Dean had told him to do. He had to get them out.

But seeing it… seeing it made it no easier to deal with.

Memories of Jess still clung to him like a bloodstain and he clutched Nyx harder to his body to keep her safe the way he hadn't been able to keep Jess safe.

Just outside the door, Dean was still dragging Kevin out the door, the younger man now fighting him and screaming about saving his mother. He had fought him the moment he recovered from the punch. Despite all they had seen and done together, he was still a young man, still a devoted son, and he had loved his mother so much.

As Sam sprinted for the door with Meg behind him, he heard the final snaps and crackle of the beams falling down and he grabbed her hand, whipping her forward and shoving her out. They made it down the porch to the driveway, to stand safe behind the Impala, just as the roaring fire made it to the first level. Meg spun around to watch as the only home she remembered went up in flames.

Behind her, Dean stared as well and remembered as a tiny boy carrying his baby brother out, not knowing that he was about to lose his hope of a family and a regular life.

While Sam remembered losing what hope he had had of being normal, the devastating loss of Jess.

Kevin crumpled to his knees and cried as he watched the house his mother had made her home become her tomb.

The loud sirens approaching made no one move, not even when fire trucks pulled in front of them and firemen began to pelt them with questions. Everything was in a fog of black smoke and fire. No one could really move. Nyx held onto Sam for protection and he squeezed her back, letting her childish tears keep him strong.

"You all have to move back, we're going to try to save the house," a fireman said. "Are you all the only people in the house?"

"Yeah… yeah." Dean shook himself out of his stupor. "Guys, come on. Back up."

Everyone backed away, with Kevin being picked up by several fireman and carried over to the ambulance as it arrived. He was heaving for breath, panic and smoke making it hard for him to even get a lungful of oxygen, and Meg watched everything as if from a daze.

_The fire…_

Shaking her head, she turned around and looked at the growing crowd. Typical of a small town, they left each other alone until something terrible happened. Now cars were pulling up and people she barely recognized were getting out to watch the blaze. No one here would care that they had lost everything.

"Wait… Linda… where is she?" she asked, turning to Dean. He looked down at her, saying nothing, and then looked away. Meg stared at his handsome face and realized what was wrong.

Her only connection to life, to what she could have been, was gone. The only person who had been kind to her in the past three years… lost in the fire. She didn't even know how or why.

Staggering back a few steps, she moved away from Dean and Sam until her back met her own car. The urge to run was so strong as finally, after three years, she panicked. She could leave while no one was watching. The blaze was stealing the only things she had ever known for the past three years. The smoke and heat began to cloud her eyesight and she inhaled a few lungfuls by mistake, feeling the intensity of the flames though it was a distance away.

She was lost. She didn't even know who she was.

She had nothing else.

Nothing except…

"Nyx!" Meg shouted, needing to be sure she was kept safe, and the little girl squirmed in Sam s arms, crying out for her mother as the smoke cleared. Her dusty black waves bounced on her shoulders as her arms outstretched, but Sam kept her safe as more firemen ran by. Meg was clutching her side, gasping for breath from the smoke inhalation and had to pause as several of the firemen shoved her out of their way with the hose.

"Hello, Meg," someone whispered behind her. A throaty voice that pricked at her mind, caught at her memory, made her turn to face a young man whose bright eyes slowly flashed to yellow in a sickeningly slow way. The man she had seen on the street. Meg stared at him and wondered why those yellow eyes were so familiar. He grinned and held up a wicked looking silver blade coated in black blood along its smooth edges. "I think it's time we brought you back."

Before she could stop him, he slammed the blade of the knife deep into her belly and pulled her into an awkward hug as if to shield what he had done from everyone else.

"Shh shh, hush," he crooned to her, rocking her a little back and forth. "No need to call them yet."

Meg chortled, blood rising from her lips.

"A type of poison made from hellhound blood and venom. Not enough to kill you if you are a demon, but do you feel the angle? It's just perfect inside of you, causing some bad damage you should be able to heal if you aren't human. It's just enough to wake you up, you understand?" he asked conversationally as he twisted the knife deeper. Meg couldn't find the strength to scream, shocked agony ripping through her body. She stared over his shoulder, trying to find a way to gasp, to scream for help.

_Nyx._

A loud shout and scream caught her attention as he released her, letting her sway on her feet. The smile was absurdly friendly, the kiss against the side of her head almost fatherly. There was something in his eyes that reminded her of another dream.

She only thought about it for a split second before the pain slicing through her body screamed for her to do something or die.

"Welcome back, daughter. You will have some explaining to do."

He disappeared in a flicker of light and Meg's vision began to blur over. She clutched at the wound in her belly and pulled her hand away to find it coated in blood. The swaying grew worse as a strange white noise and her own heartbeat began pounding in her ears

_Pain. Death._

_Why was that familiar?_

When she looked up, licking dry lips that tasted of blood, her blurred vision revealed a shadow standing in front of her. Tan coat, dark hair but nothing else she could see.

"Meg," the garbled voice said just as she collapsed to her knees. Hands caught her, held her and kept her from falling completely. With gentle firmness, the hands touched the wound in her belly that even now was pulsing out blood. Smoothed her hair out of her eyes with now bloodstained fingers and tried to comfort her.

"Get back," that familiar rough voice hissed. A loud child's cry had Meg struggling to open her eyes.

"_Nyx." _

"She's safe. Sam has her. I have you. Hold onto me." The voice was gentle and she pressed her head to the shoulder as she felt the last of her will to fight leaving her. He swung her up into his arms and the wound in her belly stopped throbbing for a moment. "Get Nyx to a motel. Protect her. I need to take care of Meg."

"Cas, look, we…"

"Go!"

* * *

The child's crying grew faint and Meg grabbed at his sleeves, clutching him like a lifeline. As he teleported them out of the fire, he could feel her starting to die. The thought that he had come back too late, that he hadn't moved fast enough, made him cradle her closer. She groaned as Castiel gently touched the wound once they came to a stop in the parkland. He'd moved them to the springs much further up the road, needing the space and the lack of people. He needed a chance to save her.

"It's okay, it's okay," he murmured against her hair as he laid her down on the ground below him. "I have you. It'll be okay. Has to be okay. I need you here. You'll be okay."

Continuing to repeat that comforting litany, more to keep himself calm than her, Castiel parted her shirt and stared at the gaping wound. It was deep and had been done purposely. When he lifted his bloodstained fingers close to his face, he could smell the heady odour of a poison. He knew then what he had to do. Knowing what using his Grace on her would do to what left of the spell. Knowing what was about to be risked.

He looked up at her face, seeing the confused agony there as she gasped and choked. "I need to heal you. I'm sorry. It's time and I can't let this happen."

She was coughing up blood, her body struggling to heal from the blow already. Castiel knelt beside her and tore her necklace off, his fingers crushing the coins that dangled there with the others. His hand glowed as his Grace unleashed and destroyed the coins, sending them back to where they had come from. Dropping the rest of the necklace to the ground, he leaned closer and pressed his palm to her side.

"I'm sorry, Meg. I hope you can forgive me. It'll be okay, I swear. You'll be okay."

Her eyes were rolling back in her head as he put his other hand to her forehead. Whispering in Enochian, he began to focus his power and found the wall he'd built in her mind. The deep shadow of a mask the spell from the Lethe had created and that his Grace had helped strengthen to hide the demonic darkness deep inside of her. He could feel the spell he had used, the power of the Lethe now broken completely at the touch of his Grace, and he found the crack in that protective shell. His power tore into it, widening it and pulling it apart the way someone would tear apart a wall brick by brick.

His eyes stayed on Meg's face and saw the pain there.

"Come back to me."

Her darkness snapped and snarled around her as he unleashed her true nature and his own Grace warred with hers instinctively, drawing it out to defend itself. Meg's chest inflated and she gasped, the blood that pulse from her wound no longer as thick. Her fingers clutched his coat tight and he pressed the heel of his hand in harder. Her breathing quickened but she didn't scream, not like a human might. She just stared up at him with pained brown eyes as she gulped in deep breaths and as he watched her eyes slowly turn black, like an ink stain slowly spreading.

The limp way she hung in his arms was warm and familiar and he smoothed his thumb over the crease in her brow, his fingers easing the pressure. "Meg," he muttered and his fingers flexed. Immediately he felt her memories flooding back, the torture that had made her a demon, the centuries of evil and pain, the utter power in her darkness. Still he continued to apply the pressure. "Come back. Please. Wake up."

He watched as the true face of the demon came back to life in its smoke and grey flesh entirety. It flickered over her and he grasped her tighter as Meg the human was replaced by Meg the demon. He glanced away to see the wound closing on its own.

"Come back to me. I won't let you die," he whispered and looked up to see her eyes were closed. The wound healed and her power roared to life as his Grace brought it back into the open.

Slowly, her eyes opened and Castiel waited. Those eyes were now so black that no light seemed to escape them as she stared up at him. Focussed on him totally and Castiel stared back into her eyes.

"_Meg."_


	3. Fog (When Angels Wait)

**_Summary: With Meg returned to her demonic state, Castiel now has to cope with the consequences of his decision three years ago. It leads to something far more drastic than he realizes when Meg takes matters into her own hands. As monsters and demons alike grow unsettled, Dean and Sam realize that something more than demons could be their greatest threat_**

* * *

**Part 3: Fog (When Angels Wait)**

Watching the fire consume the house, the creature wearing Adam Milligan's face enjoyed the rush of heat and the smell of smoke. Lifting a blood soaked hand, he admired at the way the fire highlighted the pale skin and bones of his hand. Everything, in that moment, seemed so tangible and _alive. _ The flames, the sound of people fighting to keep the fire from getting out of control, the smells and sensations of a hundred people gathered to watch the old building burn to the ground.

It was a beautiful thing to have caused.

He smiled as his eyes flickered between icy blue and sickly yellow; but all the while orange embers burned with unholy light in the deep pits of them. His tongue flicked over his lips as he stared at the red droplets on his hand. He'd forgotten how blood could gleam like dark ruby in the firelight.

With a murmur of delight, he stuck two fingers into his mouth and sucked it down like precious liquor.

"Delicious," he said before he let his tongue slide over the rest of his hand until he was clean. _Much better than a towel, _he thought and now her blood was as deeply familiar to him as her scent. He'd forgotten how potent demons' blood was when the demon was an old one.

He still wondered why, of all those dark souls, this one had come back. This one remained when the rest had been given to the Lethe after their deaths, allowed to escape. _There must be something about her,_ thought one part of him critically, trying to maintain balance as the taste of her blood lingered on his tongue. The other part, the one coiled tight around the light inside him, twitched back awake._ Oh yes, there was something, _it agreed, snarling and wrapping itself even tighter like a snake around a rabbit, fangs exposed to bite. There had always been _something_ about her_._

He watched the Impala pull out of the driveway, leaving the house behind to collapse to smoking ruin. Leave it to them to escape when there was no one to see them leave. Taking with them a prize he knew was worth something though the insanity in his mind wasn't sure what that was. They'd stolen her, with the same speed that the angel had taken _her_.

It was irritating. Killing the human had been too easy; she hadn't even screamed after spitting in his face and mocking him even when he slit her stomach open. But the kill had been necessary; annoying but necessary. But even though he'd gotten his way, he now had problems. The prophet was already carted off, the Winchesters were gone and, somewhere, a demon was waking up and not where he needed her to be. He had to think about how to move next.

Underneath the surface of his skin, the celestial beings hiding within the blood and flesh cage screeched as they continued to fight for supremacy.

* * *

_An exorcism never ended in heat and ash. Despite the agony and the screams and the way a demon would fight it, the first moments of pain were never as bad as the ones that came after._

_An exorcism ultimately ended in fear and isolation._

_It wasn't the screams of the damned or the rusted metal hooks that tear into the soul, a sort of hellish greeting given to the exorcised demons, that terrified them._

_It was a vast emptiness. There was darkness where there had once been light and warmth replaced by bitter cold._

_It made the extreme of Hell so violent when they woke there after being isolated for so long, only to find themselves once again caged and furious. It was why demons fought so hard to rise from the Pit when they succumbed to their darker selves, why they would do anything to drag themselves out, by tooth and nail, and find bodies to hide in. They would fight to never return if they had a choice. The bodies they took kept them caged but in a different way that at least took them from the cages of bone and despair. _

_The disposable demons would return time and time again and survive the brutality of the Pit if they were sent back. Unless they met with a more permanent fate to never return to Hell itself again, it was an endless cycle for the demons. Rise, fall, torture, rise, fall; a miserable fate that only fed their want for destruction._

_The older demons learned to be disgusted by the idea of being caged by human bodies, when they had abandoned them for such beautiful, torturously twisted souls of their trueforms. They rarely rose unless they had a purpose on Earth and they often left it to their soldiers to rise, to suffer in the Pit if they fell._

_But even then, there were exceptions._

_It was why the demon called Azazel's daughter clawed her way out and survived. She'd come back and ultimately rebelled. _

_Choking in smoke and ash, she climbed from the Pit each time and always had a feeling of rebirth. Vengeance and purpose. She was born to survive. _

_**Until the Lethe.**_

_Then she knew what it was to drown and have no hope of surfacing._

_She was submerged now, legs kicking out uselessly as she tread far below the waves and hovered within dark water covered by a sheet of ice. The light that pierced the glass-like surface was just a shadow to her. Even when she had tried to rise from the water, there was nothing to give her purchase to swim up to see what was above. She had seen a storm, a hurricane, but she was cradled within the currents and kept safe in the calm of the water so that the blinding lightning hadn't touched her._

_Each slow pull of the riptide was like gravity, pulling her lower and lower and each day that passed she sank deeper into the water as time dragged on. She lost herself in the water and the ice slowly became familiar, a hard shell that encased her and took her into greater darkness. She drifted into a silence that made her own heartbeat loud in her ears. Such peace was a mercy to her now, instead of a sacrilege to what she was, and it wasn't long before she submitted to the oblivion of the water._

_**Time to sleep, Meg.**_

_That voice lulled at her, pulled her down, and she let her her arms float over her head as the tide pulled her deeper._

— **Meg! **_—_

_Another voice, garbled by water and distance, yanked at her like a hand gripping her soul, and she opened her eyes to stare up at the surface. Something illuminated above, this time not lightning but a beacon of light. She twisted in the water, the riptide slowly turning to hands that held onto her legs and body, dragging her down. But the call of the light was stronger and she kicked out hard, once. The hands let go, the tide went still, and suddenly she could move. Her lungs burned with a sudden need for air and she was desperate for relief._

_She wanted to get free. She was so close!_

_The thought of freedom she clung to as she swam through the shadows and rose through the water and ice._

* * *

"Meg, come back to me. I won't let you die," Castiel whispered as he smoothed his hand down the side of her face again and again. He wanted to soothe her and snap her out of her catatonic state all at once.

It was the same litany he had murmured for nearly an hour. He'd let her lie, still and cold on the grass, with her eyes closed and her chest barely moving, and he hadn't moved her yet. He had wanted to do something. Shake her, stroke her face, slap her, anything to force her to look at him, but he kept his hands soothing and prayed instead.

Prayed even though he knew his Father wasn't listening.

_What if there had been limitations to the spell? What if, in the end, it had turned her into a vulnerable human? What if she could resist his healing? What if he'd failed?_

Castiel shifted so he sat cross-legged beside Meg and watched her face.

Nothing.

His phone was vibrating in his pocket wildly with text messages but he ignored it. He even knew that he should answer them; the fire at Linda's house would have taken its toll, but still he just watched Meg.

Waited for her.

As he looked away finally, needing to steady himself, he noticed her necklace where he'd thrown it on the ground. Castiel picked it up and let the charms run through his fingers. He splayed them on his palm and tentatively closed his fingers over the smallest of them. They were hot to touch from the spell and humming with power, but without the coins there wasn't that tinge of the Lethe anymore. Castiel rolled them on his palm and let the charms hang for a moment as they cooled. Closing his eyes, he tucked the necklace into his coat pocket, fingers brushing his tiny journal as well.

A low sound caught his attention and his head whipped around so fast that his neck cracked a little.

Castiel heard her breathing stop for a second and his own heart skipped a beat in his chest. He sighed in relief as Meg's chest inflated again, a ragged breath groaning past her lips like a death rattle. She was still for a moment before it happened again, stronger than before, and he scrambled to his hands and knees to lean down over her.

"Meg?"

He touched her face and then glanced down at the bloody shirt. The wound had nearly knitted over, leaving the skin smooth and supple, and he gingerly slid his fingers over it. His Grace created a white line that he could see clearly on her body, dancing over the flesh and sinking beneath to touch her darkness. Meg's lips, still raw and chapped from her earlier cries, began to move and Castiel slid down so he was almost lying beside her.

"Come on," he encouraged, ear hovering just over her mouth as he listened to her breathing deepen. "I know you're in there."

"Castiel," she hissed out low and soft and he smiled, looking up to see her eyes watching him. Wide, staring, and black as pitch. Castiel thought they were absolutely beautiful.

Some absurd hope flooded him at the familiarity of that look; at the way her eyes seemed to flick over his face. As if she was searching for something within the depths of his own eyes: perhaps his true form, the hints that lurked beneath the vessel to show the angel as he was? Meg murmured his name again; her brow was furrowed in confusion as if she was trying to figure out what he was doing there. Then, just as suddenly, her face went blank and he thought she was going to fall asleep again.

Before he could speak, her mouth twisted into a snarl and her fist came out of nowhere. The loud crunch of flesh on flesh was deafening in the quiet park. There was real power behind her punch as it slammed into his face; if he'd been human it would have broken his jaw. Instead, he went sprawling out beside her, gasping in shock at the sensation. His horrified eyes went to her but Meg was already rolling away from him, clutching at her head and nearly tearing at her hair.

"It's in my head, all of it. It hurts. What did you do to me?" she said. Her voice was low, rough from too much screaming and smoke, but it was somehow worse than if she had screamed at him.

Castiel quickly got to his knees beside her.

"Meg, it's me! Castiel," he said, reaching out to touch her but she shoved him back_. She's panicking_, he thought as he balanced on his knees, _she needs to see that she's going to be safe._

"You son of a bitch, I know who you are!" Meg shouted and then collapsed into a fit of coughing. Thick black tendrils of black dust drifted from her mouth and curled around her face, and he watched her head tilt back. Alarmed, Castiel could only watch as a tiny vortex of smoke started to spiral out of her mouth. The chapped bloody lips parted wider and she screamed, echoed by the wind of darkness trying to escape her meatsuit.

Even though he was used to the high pitch and tone of angelic chorus, it was painful to hear as he looked up at the dark of her soul climbing into the sky.

But before it could spiral out of control, something flickered from the body to snap around the smoke and her soul was drawn back down to the meatsuit. It moved slowly, twined beneath a twist of shadow and light that distorted the air around them as the demon was pulled back to earth. Meg's meatsuit sagged under the pressure and Castiel dove to catch her, holding her head back as the soul came back to the abandoned body she'd taken. Her eyelids fluttered and she continued to gasp for air, but there was no escaping the pressure and pain he knew she felt.

Meg began to shake as she felt every buried memory start to weave its way through her mind and remind her just who she was. Not just the surface, the superficial details that any could guess, but the deeper memories that fought their way to remind her who she was and what she had been. Terrifying flashes of pain and a sensation of drowning choked at her.

She was a demon. She'd lost herself for a time, only to be reborn on the damp grass of an abandoned park.

Rocking her back and forth, Castiel tried to soothe her as he smoothed her hair back from her sweated forehead. His arms tightened and he raised a knee so she wouldn't fall on the grass, wouldn't feel cold from the dew and the moist earth.. Castiel closed his eyes and felt her pain as if it was his own as he held her. The angel could hear her babbling, struggling to regain herself, felt her struggle against his strength when her pain tried to convince her to run, but none of it mattered as he waited for her darkness to reawaken fully.

"I'm sorry," he whispered before he pressed a kiss against the top of her head and begged her to come back to him.

He prayed that what he had done hadn't destroyed any chance of forgiveness.

* * *

"You know, that whole 'how can things get worse' thing just made so much more sense after what happened," Dean said as he pulled into the main street of a tiny town, searching for a motel. He had tried to put as much distance between them and the burning house before he'd slowed down the Impala from its breakneck speed. Before leaving they'd only paused long enough to be sure Kevin was away in an ambulance, then they'd gunned it out of that wreckage. There was no time to see where Castiel had taken Meg, and not enough time to sit and grieve for Linda.

_There never is enough time, _Dean thought angrily. _Damn, she deserves for us to grieve_.

But after all these years, both men had grown so used to their losses that they had learned to bury any grief deep down and not dwell on it.

"Shh," Sam growled and he reached over the turn off the music Dean had put on to soothe his own nerves. His brother glared and reached out to turn it back on when out of the corner of his eye he spotted the small child curled up between them. She'd been so quiet he had forgotten she was there. Nyx was bundled up tightly, still in her pyjamas and cuddling her torn toy close to her body, and she was pressed against his leg with her head resting on his thigh. Despite her crying, they'd been able to get her into the car and away from the house without too much fuss.

Neither liked leaving Kevin behind but he needed medical attention and they needed to protect Nyx. Neither understood the strange need to protect her instead of Kevin, but they hadn't stopped to question it. To keep her from crying too loudly and attracting attention, Sam had finally brought her to the front with him. For some reason sitting between them had calmed her and her frightened tantrum had dulled a little.

Dean lowered his hand and patted the top of her dark head, hoping she would sleep for a little longer. It had taken a lot to convince her to sleep and he hadn't been too proud to stop and get some Child's NyQuil in town before they headed right out.

Meg would likely have tried to kill him if she ever found out, though what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

"Can't believe you drugged her," Sam said as if voicing Dean's own thoughts as his brother slowed down for a red light.

"I didn't drug her, Sam, I helped her. She was frantic. I can't say I blame her. We went through the same thing, you know how it can mess you up at that age, but I'll be damned if I'll wake her up right now." Dean reached over and nudged Sam in the side before he rested his hand on Nyx's shoulder. "Look, we can't just get her to a hospital, you said so yourself. There are too many people and we don't even know if she would test as human. Linda never said and you know she kept her away from too many doctors. And until we get word from Cas, we can't do much else."

"Yeah, fair enough."

Both brothers watched as the light continued to stay red and Sam leaned down to fish through his bag for his phone without looking away. "What do you think did it?"

Dean sucked in a deep breath and then looked over at him, lower lip thrust out and his eyes piercing.

His brother immediately shook his head at that look. "No, Dean. No."

"It's the only thought I got. That sort of move, you know, with the – Jesus – the ceiling thing? That's not from Crowley's time or even Abaddon's. Abaddon prefers a straighter kill and Crowley would play it out, especially if it was Linda and Kevin. That was old school, Sam."

"Old school and impossible."

"Sam." Dean took in a deep breath. "Think back over the past three years. Hell, even look at who's sleeping between us, and tell me what is impossible."

Sam stared at him and then down at Nyx. "Okay, you've got a point."

"Course I do. I got the brains and the looks in the family." He eased the car forward when the light changed and tapped his thumb against the wheel thoughtfully. "If Meg is —"

Reaching over, Sam punched him in the shoulder and ignored his disgruntled hiss of pain. When he gestured at Nyx, Dean settled down and didn't continue that train of thought.

"Look, maybe Cas is removing that spell as we speak and we'll be good. Full-throttle Meg is better than amnesia Meg by far, and we both saw her take care of that hellhound," Sam explained. "Maybe she would have a clue."

"She seemed pretty upset before whatever happened out there." Dean frowned. "Still not sure what I saw but she was stabbed, Sam. Before that she was looking ready to run. You saw it on her face too."

"Well, her and Linda got along. We both know how she was for the past few years," he said. ""Meg's not been very stable in the past, except for Nyx."

"I just think maybe Cas isn't ready for how bad this could be, bringing Meg back like this." Dean turned the Impala towards the motel sign flashing in the darkness. "Remember how you felt, having your wall broken down?"

Sam flinched. "Dean, I…"

"Or how it would be if you had to forget everything?" Dean gently put one hand over Nyx's ear so he could block her from hearing. "I'm just saying, Sam, I would actually understand this time around if Meg flew off the handle and shivved him."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." Sam glanced down at Nyx. "At least for her sake. Kid's night has been hard enough."

* * *

The moment she stopped shaking, Castiel felt Meg's body go rigid and coiled as if ready to escape. He tightened his arms around her waist and held on as she began to twist and scream obscenities at him; she was elbowing him, kneeing him, anything she could to force him to let go. But his strength was still greater hers and he tucked himself up to prevent the worst of the blows, grabbing her hands and pushing them away behind her back.

"Meg…"

"You son of a bitch!" she screamed again though this time her voice cracked. There had been too many screams, too many cries of pain as she had succumbed to herself, and it had strained her throat. Castiel felt her turn in his arms and he slung his arms tighter across her waist, one hand stealing up into her hair to keep it from tangling around them. He tried to brush it away from her face and was nearly headbutted as she squirmed.

"Calm down. I won't hurt you."

Meg didn't stop trying to get free and he felt her clutching his clothing, her legs still trying to kick away from him to find purchase on the ground. He fought to keep her calm, muttering at her to keep still, that it would pass and it wouldn't hurt anymore. But something changed as she twisted into him, as she realized he wasn't about to let her go, and the grip turned from frantic to angry.

Her hands stole into his coat and on instinct he pulled back just as the glimmer of metal caught his eye. The sword sang as she yanked it out of its holster and sliced the blade through the air, nearly catching him as he rolled away to his feet. It tore his shirt at the stomach and he stared down at the clean slice it had made through the material, his skin prickling from the near miss.

"Meg," he warned and he watched her roll to her knees, the sword shining between them like a block. She flicked it back so the blade rested against her forearm, ready to stab at him if he moved.

"Get away from me."

Holding up his hands, he stepped back and watched her get shakily to her feet. He couldn't hide the way his eyes roamed over her, seeing the visible strain of her body and how her entire body seemed to pulse with demonic life. He could see her true face lingering just under the surface now.

But he hadn't seen it look at him with such hate since that moment years ago. A moment he remembered too clearly: when he had been trapped in fire and had met the demon that had shown such love and loyalty for his fallen brother. They had fought to undermine one another's faith because that was what they were meant to do: hate each other until it destroyed one of them. If the world had made any sense, he would never have risked everything for her and she wouldn't have given up everything for him.

Realizing it, just made him love her all the more and be more determined to stand still and take her rage as his penance.

"Meg, it's…"

"Shut it, Castiel," she snapped. Her other hand went to her hair and she pulled hard on the dark brown strands. "Oh. Oh sweet Hell. It hurts."

He watched her head bow and he took a shuffling step forward, only for the sword to be swung out to barely miss his stomach again. He jumped back and warily watched the wild swing of her arm. "Meg, I can…"

"If you even try to touch me," Meg warned and her eyes opened again to reveal dark brown, "and I'll kill you."

Castiel dropped his hand down.

"You. I remember you now. Who you were. What we… what we did. What you were." She backed away. Castiel felt a part of him breaking at the hate and anger in her face. The way she stared at him as if he was, once again, her enemy.

"I was yours," he offered. "We were —"

""We were nothing!" she shouted and then had to wince at the pain it caused in her head. "You took my life from me!"

Shaking his head, he stepped toward her again. "I wanted you safe, Meg —"

Her fingers tightened around the hilt and he watched her weakly swipe at the air again. "You even come closer."

"— you and Nyx. I wanted you safe. You were the best person for her, Meg. I trusted you."

"Shut. Up. Just shut up." She scraped her nails down her face and then stared at her hand as if expecting there to be blood and flesh on it. "You hid what I was, you… buried me alive. Knowing I might never get those memories, that part of me, back!"

Castiel had never thought of it like that but now, faced with her, he knew how she could see it that way. It wasn't what he meant though; he knew she just needed time to understand.

The urge to touch her was so strong that he held his hand out, palm up, and waited. But Meg did nothing but stare at him as if he was something she was going to kill.

"I meant to bring you back if it was safe, whenever that was. I might for it to be less painful. But you were stabbed, and I… I needed you."

"To what? Protect your offspring still?" Meg's lips curled into a snarl. "Saddle me with the kid and you get to roam free."

How fast her fear went to hateful words made him wonder how much she believed of that.

"It wasn't like that. She needed you."

"Why?" Meg asked and she bowed over to cough. As Castiel watched, the shattered remnants of her mask seemed to fall away from her true face and the smoke and woman became one for a moment. The angel sword dropped from her hand and she groaned, digging her fingers instead into the flesh of her thighs as she shuddered. "Why would you do this to me?"

"We can argue about this later," Castiel said, forcing his voice to a more neutral tone though he was tempted to reach out again. Instead he quickly summoned the blade back to him to keep it safe and away from her. "We need to get you to safety."

Meg's laugh was so stark and sudden that he backed up a step in strange fear of it. The laugh started low and raised sharply, a staccato sound in the still night air. To his ears it was almost maniacal and torn into hysteria with its pain. Her hair drifted in the breeze and she peered at him through a veil of darkness.

"Me? Safe? Oh, Castiel," her eyes flicked to black, "you really should have thought of that years ago."

He swallowed deeply as Meg straightened up.

"I did it to save you."

"You caged me." Her head tilted and his fear intensified when something colder replaced the fear and pain. "Knowing what that would do to me."

"I…"

"Where would they take Nyx?" she said suddenly and he backed up another step as she circled him, somehow seeming more like a predator than a demon. Castiel had never felt threatened by Meg before. Never in their long association but there was pure hate-filled _intent_ coming from her. _His demon, _he thought almost possessively as he met her eyes and tried to recognize what he saw_._

This demon was ready to rip him apart. This wasn't the creature he'd come to know. This was the one Dean had warned him of. The one that had fallen in line with Hell's orders time and time again, the one that had fallen without a purpose and had tortured them until she found a cause again.

_What if this was the cost Death had spoken of?_

Shaking himself when Meg demanded an answer louder this time, Castiel checked his phone and saw the address. "Outside the town. I can take you…"

"Where?" she demanded and snapped her fingers. He was unprepared for her power to snarl around his and his cellphone suddenly felt hot to the touch. As uncontrolled as she was, her power had been temporarily increased by her rebirth and the phone flew out of his grip. Ignoring his protest, Meg turned it over in her hand and stared at the screen.

"Meg," Castiel warned as he watched her drop the phone to the concrete. Her eyes met his and the hate, the anger that he saw there, tore at him.

She was gone in a flicker and he cursed himself for being too slow, for underestimating her again. But as fast as she was, she wasn't strong enough not to leave a trace behind. Stretching out his Grace, he found the tornado of her dark self and set after her. He wasn't about to lose track of her just because she had surprised him.

A block away from the motel address on the text, Meg landed hard and fell to her back before she could catch herself. Her ability to teleport, at first so eager to rise to her needs, had suddenly weakened just after throwing herself across that distance. She felt disgustingly old and powerless in comparison to what she had once been. She was so tired already and she lay still on the gravel, watching the night sky spin overhead.

_What he done to her?_

There was no mistaking what she had felt when her soul had sprung free from the cage it had been in. Each torturous memory, of darkness and pain, flooded back and transformed her to what she had been for years now. She burned inside and out, though her flesh felt torn by ice instead of fire. Her lungs burned and her head ached, and the longer she laid there the more that she realized every muscle just hurt.

Feeling the small rocks dig into back, Meg stared up at the moonlit sky and groaned as the headache pounded in her temples. It was easy to decide to hate everything in existence until this ache left. At least that distracted her a little so that she could plan her next move. The shift in the air let her know she hadn't run fast enough and she closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

When her eyes reopened, Castiel stood over her after arriving in a flutter of cloth and wings. He tilted his head as she looked up at him upside down. The shadows distorted his face but she wasn't interested in seeing how he had changed, or how he likely was giving her that pitying look she hated. Meg longed to stab him with his own sword, so that _she_ could feel something to measure up to that hate and anger she felt. He'd done something worse than Alastair or Azazel.

He'd buried her and put her in an illusion.

Likely expected her to roll over in gratitude as well.

_Damn_, she thought, _straightforward torture was so much better._

"You're not strong enough to teleport far," he said. His voice was light, as if it was just yesterday they had been together and not three years ago. Meg stared up at him and remembered fragments of that day, though much of it was a haze. Of him looking down at her and smiling, touching her, giving no sign of the betrayal that would happen. "I was going to tell you that."

"Stay away from me," Meg snapped as she scrambled to her feet. The motel wasn't that far away, she realized. Miserable as she felt, she could make it if she walked. Looking down at her own body, she knew she'd gone further looking and feeling worse. Her clothing still smelled of fire and smoke, not her natural scent, and her clunky shoes weren't made for any real distance. But anything was better than another stupid and humiliating fall like that, especially if Castiel was watching.

The angel followed her on foot at a safer distance, letting her pull ahead of him every time his longer legs caught up.

They'd walked in silence for a while until he finally cleared his throat and caught up again. "I need to explain."

"Shut up."

"Meg, stop. If you go back like this, Nyx won't know you. She might see you only as a demon."

"I don't care."

"You need to calm down," Castiel warned as he closed in and reached for her arm. "You need to listen to me."

Without any warning, Meg turned and slammed her hand into his stomach, sending him to his knees. Shocked, Castiel gazed up at her as she knifed her hand into his hair and yanked his head back.

"I don't need anything. I don't even know why I'm not killing you right now. But trust me, I want to." She looked into his eyes and the angel stared back. His eyes flicked over her face as if he was seeing under the surface of her and Meg let him go when it was clear he didn't fear her even when she wanted so badly to kill him. Dusting off his knees, Castiel stood up and cleared his throat.

"I brought you back to save you. You were…"

"I know what happened," Meg snapped and her head twisted to the side as her hand stole beneath her bloody shirt to touch the healed wound. She stroked it thoughtfully. "Just not sure why."

She shook herself again and Castiel watched her warily.

"I sent Nyx with the Winchesters. They can protect her." He was trying to keep her calm but he knew she wasn't seeing it that way.

"You sent_ my_ kid with those idiots?" Meg snapped.

"She's mine as well," Castiel blurted out. He knew better than to admit that it felt good to say that aloud.

"You gave up that years ago, angel." Meg once had used that as an endearment but Castiel could feel the insult there now.

"I wanted to protect you but I can't tell you why now. We're exposed. Nyx is safe and if we can get out of the open we can talk…"

The low angry chuckle she gave was full of rage. "You would try to use Nyx in this. Well, Cas, she's smart, not some stupid human. She _knows _that she's different. She's scared little girl who can't figure out what she is and I couldn't tell her because you took that memory from me! She needed us the way we were!"

Castiel tilted his head, caught by her words. The broken anger in her voice held his attention. "Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Need me?" He reached out and touched her, trying not to feel the way she flinched when his hand just brushed her wrist. Meg stepped out of his way and walked around him.

"You made me stop needing you around. I forgot you, remember?" Her head turned a little towards him. "I don't want you here."

"I…" Castiel squared his shoulders. "I want to be here."

Her resentment clear, Meg leaned away and kept walking towards the motel. "So you take me to Nyx and you leave it at that. I swear if you hurt her I'll kill you myself."

"I won't hurt her or you. I never wanted to."

" Broken promises, Castiel, you were always good at those." Meg's bitterness curled around him and he quickly walked in front of her, trying to slow her down.

"Fine, but just wait."

"I'm going to her. Now."

Castiel felt his alarm growing as she passed him again. "She'll see what you are."

"Better than learning her absent father decided to show up," Meg snarled just to twist the knife in, tossing the words over her shoulder with a bitterness that burned. "Stay out of my way."

* * *

Sam was stretched out on the couch, his head swimming with the start of a headache as he stared at the television. He'd been grateful to get some rest but even lying down his stomach felt like it was being turned inside and out. At least they had warm spot for a change. The motel wasn't the greatest but the rooms were clean and cheap. Dean had anticipated Meg and Castiel, getting a spare room and letting Nyx curl up in bed so their warding and conversation wouldn't bother her. With the door propped open, Dean could watch her as he cleaned his weapons and made phone calls to Garth and the closest hunters to find out if there had been any unusual activity.

That there had actually been an upswing in monster and demonic activity in the north and east likely only meant trouble. Sam had tossed in a few ideas but nothing seemed to fit. Even before they'd gone to Heber Springs, it had been a little quiet lately and maybe they were about to pay the price for that.

When the door swung open, Sam nearly fell off the couch as he launched himself for a possible weapon, the closest being the lamp. He spun, blinking rapidly to get rid of the stars in his eyes as the room swam in his vision. Shaking his head, he focussed on Meg's small body outlined in the doorway, and slowly put the lamp back down. Nearby, Dean stood up and set his cleaning rags on the table.

Both of them could see Castiel standing just behind her, his eyes on the back of her head. Reluctantly, he looked at them both and gave a tiny shake of his head, warning them. Sam leaned back against the arm of the couch and cleared his throat noisily to break the tension.

Her eyes went over him and then Dean as she came into the centre of the room. Sam swallowed when she focussed on him in particular.

"You both knew."

Neither moved or said anything.

"Guess I'm not surprised," Meg muttered and she walked forward, snatching a bottle of beer off the table that Sam had half-drunk already.

"So you're back to full demon?" Dean asked, not trying to sugar coat anything. As she gulped down the beer noisily, she looked directly at him and her eyes went black for an answer. Dean and Sam glanced at each other as she took up two more bottles from the coffee table and drank them down without bothering to pause. Castiel fidgeted behind her before finally closing the door and locking it. He glanced out the curtains, as if he was sure they'd been followed, and then shook his head, turning around to watch the demon.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked her tentatively.

"Let's not pretend we actually care." Meg set the last bottle down with a thunk and made a disgusted face. "No wonder I never got drunk. That crap is weak."

"She wanted to see Nyx. I told her you would keep her safe," Castiel explained to the brothers. Dean nodded to the connected room.

"She's been sleeping for a bit now. I think the fire wore her out. Kev's in the hospital but Nyx seems okay," he said. "It is pretty lucky we were able to sneak out, you know."

Before he could say anything more, Meg was walking towards the door. She stopped to grab Nyx's bag from the floor and swung it up over her shoulder, looking at the men in a way that warned them not to come with her. Castiel sighed at that look and followed her, gesturing for Dean and Sam to stay back. Both hunters happily didn't move to go along with either of them. Dean looked at Sam and made a slicing gesture across his throat and, try as he might not to, Sam grinned and looked away.

But even though he was just behind her, Meg slipped through the connecting door and slammed it in Castiel's face before he could follow. It vibrated with the force of the impact and only leaning back just a bit kept it from breaking his nose. Castiel stared stupidly at the white chipped wood for a long time, head tilted as he faced the door as if he could see through it. Eventually, his shoulders hunched and he slowly sagged forward, pressing his forehead against the door.

Patting him on the back in sympathy, Dean went back to cleaning his shotgun as Sam shook his head and sat on the couch again. The brothers kept their voices low, but he didn't hear a word either said to him. Through the door he could hear nothing of what was happening in the next room and he wondered what Meg was doing.

Turning so his back was against the door, Castiel let his head fall back as he slowly slid down to the floor.

* * *

The reawakened demon hated the idea of being so close to something that had trapped and hurt her. The Grace it could feel seething on the other side of the door made darkness snarl and curl inside of her and Meg felt herself getting ready to run and escape. Caged too long, everything she was felt swelled and sore from the forced hiding.

_You're a demon. Not some simple human._

The temptation to just sneak out the door, covered by the pretence of checking on Nyx, was so strong that she made it to the other side of the room to the bathroom, where she could crawl out the window if she had to. Her hand was already on the knob when Nyx's soft mumbling that caught her attention and made her turn around. The lump in the middle of the bed was shaking and Meg's face twisted into a confused frown. A conflicted sensation that she hadn't expected kept her from turning away.

_Kill her and you won't feel a leash anymore,_ a devious voice whispered, familiar and heavily dripping with seduction. A voice she hadn't heard in her head in three years. It sounded like… Meg's skin crawled and she shook her head. But the voice wouldn't be silenced. _It would be a mercy. Kill her._

Even though she wasn't armed, her hand dropped to the back of her jeans where she normally would have hidden a knife. But the instant the familiar gesture happened, her instincts screamed no.

Looking at Nyx, she pulled her hand away and put it to her own forehead instead, muttering for that voice to shut up and leave her alone.

She'd carried that impossible child for almost nine of the most trying months in her long existence. She'd cared for her when all demonic principles should have had her killing her and leaving. Gone against the laws of her own kind because of her.

It was hard to deny the truth.

Meg loved her. She could still remember holding her and comforting her for the past three years against scary dreams and loneliness. Nyx had been hers and hers alone. The only constant she had had that made sense to devote her loyalty to.

Meg shoved those thoughts aside and slid her hands down her legs as she crouched beside the bed. Reaching out, she touched Nyx's dark hair, smoothed her fingers down the baby-soft cheek, and watched her turn sleepily over to her touch. As a demon now she could feel the faint hum of something hiding in her own daughter and she wondered if, like herself, Nyx could no longer hide what she was.

"Nyx."

Her eyes, blue and moist from tired tears, fluttered open to stare at Meg. Instantly those eyes widened as her mouth opened in a scream and the demon put her hand on her mouth to smother it. She felt those tiny sharp teeth bite but she kept herself calm and smiling as she kept Nyx from being too loud.

"Shh. Nyx. It's me." The girl stopped her struggling but her eyes were so large and suddenly dark that she nearly looked black-eyed herself. Waiting for her to look into her eyes, Meg stroked her other hand down her face and let her still weak power just gently touch her daughter's mind.

"It's me. No screaming, got it?"

When she removed her hand, Nyx reached out and shakily poked at her cheek. The flesh was solid even if what she was seeing wasn't and she traced Meg's nose. "Mommy?"

Meg grinned. "That's right, Nyxie. Remember how I looked yesterday?"

Nyx nodded, slowly, still staring at her wide-eyed.

"Imagine me looking like that. Like a game, okay?"

Nyx blinked, just once and slowly like a tiny owl, and as Meg watched she could see her fear leaving her. Meg stared back and saw in her daughter's eyes a sort of calm acceptance on that small face that hinted this might not be something she hadn't seen before. It made her wonder how long Nyx had been able to see demons and never said anything.

How long had she been blinded against what her daughter could be and what would that blindness cost her?

It made her angry just thinking about it but Nyx distracted her when she suddenly launched off the bed into her arms. She wrapped her arms around her mother's neck in a tiny chokehold and started to murmur that she'd been scared. Meg blinked, for a moment back to being pure demon and not sure what else to do in response to the open affection. Nyx's gentleness slowly wore at her and sighing she hugged her back.

"You okay?" Meg asked and felt Nyx nod against the crook of her neck. "Need me to beat those guys up?"

A shake of the head and Meg stood up slowly, finding it easier to lift her than she had before. Even though she still felt drained, muscle memory and old power was remembering what it was and kept her from dropping her daughter even in her exhaustion. Nyx clung to her as Meg walked to the window and stared out at the parking lot. Castiel was waiting and she had the suspicion that he had every intention of talking this over to death the moment she let down her guard and let him close.

_The last thing she needed, wanted, was __**him**__._

Grinding her teeth together, she glanced at the Impala on the far side of the parking lot, where the dirt drive wasn't so thick with mud. Go figure. Dean wouldn't want his precious thing dirtied and ruined. At the least they'd kept Nyx safe so she could give them a pass for that.

Close by, a truck rumbled down the strip of highway and Meg watched its path thoughtfully. Another pass of cars, campers and trucks, all headed out of town and she started to get an idea. Holding tight to Nyx, she looked thoughtfully at her one hand, still stained and moist with her own blood.

_She couldn't stay still now. If she did then she was as good as trapped._

That her mind was working faster than it should while confused by too much anger and pain, wasn't something she even bothered to think about right.

"Nyx, do you feel like playing a game?" Meg asked and she felt the girl look up. She glanced down at her, boosting her up as she began to draw a small sigil on her own palm. "We're gonna go on a trip but you have to be extra quiet."

Those blue eyes looked at her quizzically as they walked back to the ed. "No monsters?"

"Nope. No monsters." Meg picked up the torn toy for Nyx and held it out for her with a grin. "Promise."

* * *

Dean grabbed a couple of beers from the bar fridge and sat down next to Castiel, stretching his long legs out as he held out a bottle to him. Castiel's eyes were shut as he rested his head back on the door, looking as if he was mediating, but at Dean's impatient nudge his hand lifted up. He took the bottle blindly and lifted it to his lips, taking a long sip before letting it dangle between his own raised knees. Dean watched him for a moment before he took a drink himself, glancing at where Sam was dozing away on the couch again.

Grinning wryly, he clinked his bottle against Castiel's.

"Here's to family, eh?" he asked and Castiel opened his eyes.

"This isn't what I expected," he admitted and Dean snorted.

"What did you expect? A moment of Meg losing her shit on you and then everything gets all normal and nuclear family?" He shook his head. "Come on, Cas, you're not that naive."

"I'd hoped to talk to her before coming back to see Nyx. To make her understand but she's very unstable right now."

"You buried the demon, Cas. You didn't just hide her, you buried her and you forced her to it." He held up his hand. "Don't get me wrong. I know why you did it. I get it. I mean I had you wipe Lisa's memory though that hurt like a bitch for me. So I understand."

When the angel looked over at him, Dean shook his head. "But you know things just don't bounce back like we hope. Not for us."

Castiel closed his eyes and leaned back, his head thumping into the door. "If only things could have been different." He winced as he thought back over the past few years. "Though I imagine they would have only been worse in the end."

"Well, there are positives, right?" Dean nudged him in the side. "Meg and Nyx are alive. Maybe things won't ever be the same but they are here and at least you can keep an eye on them."

Castiel hesitated, eyes opening again and his gaze slowly dragging down the opposite wall. "I guess."

"So we keep them safe and maybe everything will pan out." Dean heard him scoff. "I'm allowed to be optimistic."

"It's super creepy coming from you," Sam called out without even opening his eyes. Dean glared at him.

"Stow it, Sammy."

Grumbling, Sam rolled over to face the back of the couch.

"Do you actually think any of this could end well?" Castiel asked, looking away from his scrutiny of the wall to face him. Dean returned the intense look, seeing under the way Castiel tried to look so casual. He could see his desperation and his unhappiness, how badly he wanted to believe something like this could be fixed. When he had been human he had been more resigned to his fate; this wasn't that Castiel.

Sometimes Dean forgot how the angel had been during those long nine months before Nyx had been born. How careful and yet protective he'd been of them all, as if he'd been given a renewed purpose. As if that had been a fragment of stopped time before the world started again. Never-mind everything that had happened during it; gods and demons, trials and desperation. It had become a distant memory thanks to the whirlwind of the past few years.

But it was memory that had been brought jarringly back to life thanks to a demon and her child, and Dean wondered if Castiel had ever really let any of it go.

He doubted it.

"Dean?" Castiel was still staring at him so he shrugged.

"I hope it does. Not like they are going anywhere without us, you know. Gotta have hope in something," Dean admitted finally. Castiel's eyes narrowed a little, thoughtfully staring at him and then at the floor, and his expression became rapt. One hand lifted to press against the door and Dean thought for a second that he was going to zap in. It would be like Cas, he figured, to just decide to be the angel of the Lord and force Meg to listen.

But he saw Castiel's blue eyes dart back and forth as he stared at the floor, like he was searching for something. When he leapt to his feet, Dean stared up at him in bewilderment.

"Cas?"

"They've moved."

"What?" Sam rolled over a little to look at them. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… I mean…" Castiel reached down and yanked Dean out of the way, ignoring his startled cursing. He shoved the connecting door open and walked in, leaving both brothers to watch him before he leaned heavily on the frame. "Oh no."

"Cas?" Sam pulled himself off the couch.

"They're gone," Castiel whispered, staring around the dark room. Dean and Sam followed him in, Dean pointing out to Sam that the spot where they'd put Nyx's bag was empty. Castiel nervously clenched his fists as he glanced at the open bathroom door and then at the bed. Meg must have moved fast and quiet, he realized. How she had the strength to do that he wasn't even sure.

He took in a low breath and he walked into the room, eyes on the imprint in the blankets as he sat down on the bed. He ran his fingers over the sheets and comforter, feeling the crease in the sheets and comforter. It was still warm to the touch and it was easy to envision Nyx there until just minutes before.

Castiel shut his eyes and before either Winchester could stop him he disappeared.

* * *

_Purgatory…_

The alpha vampire settled into a low crouch as he watched the body twitch left, then right, but still not rise. Every alpha and pureblood in Purgatory, regardless of species, had come to pay tribute to her; before she'd never returned home, having been locked away in Hell, but now she was home. Whether or not her body would ever rise again was something no one knew. But the alphas did not stop what they were doing; they were the first to come here after all. There were plans, schemes, spells, that they could try after years spent in this damned place; every alpha had some sort of magic and they were connected the Mother in their own ways.

They began to work their blood magic slowly. Feeding it to the corpse, trying to force it to repair faster than any other could, and using it in rituals to worship her.

No one left the body alone for long. Without them who knew what would come for the body and they were guarding it with more jealousy than they guarded their own territories. Strange, the alpha thought as he watched the twitching, how bringing her back from Hell had somehow caused the souls in Purgatory to make alliances once again.

The pieces of her not rotted or torn were fragments of something pure and awe-inspiring to the creatures in Purgatory. She was their mother, their meaning for life. The alpha gingerly reached out and touched the mud-streaked skin where an incision had left her pelvis gaping open, so that as she continued to reproduce eggs they would be exposed in the pit of her womb. It had repelled them all until those hatchlings had come out. Strange little creatures that were more like spiders and bugs than anything else; they crawled into shadows and then disappeared into flickers of bright light. The lights never left the Mother's body for long, surrounding her in the form of little orbs that formed a bed on the dirt.

Life was springing forth in Purgatory as Eve continued to create her terrible children.

The alpha stroked her hand. "Our mother," he prayed aloud. He was old, so old that he had been in Purgatory, had survived in Purgatory, for longer than any other creature he'd known. His brother still lived topside but he had long since succumbed to the pull of Purgatory. Killed centuries ago, he'd couldn't remember much except this world. He ruled his nest he had made here and had never cared for much else. He had only moved out to bring the Mother back to them all.

It made this out of character slip-up fatal for him as an axe-head sank deep into his neck and with a crack severed his head from his body.

The vampire who'd made the killing blow hoisted the makeshift bone-axe to his shoulder and grinned. "Keep an eye out, boss," he scolded as the body slumped and fell. The bloody stump of the neck began to spurt blood onto the woman's body it had fallen against.

Benny had lost track of time long since coming back to save Sam Winchester. Instead of fighting Purgatory's depraved games, he revelled in it. He'd become the hunter instead of the hunted and decided to fight for the fun. It no longer mattered if the fighting meant something or if it was just for sport. It was bloody and fun.

He had missed this in that half-year spent topside.

Baring his fangs, Benny took in a deep breath and realized that the other alphas were close. The variety of them made his nose ache from the stench of their bodies. They were too close, maybe, and he should be moving on before they realized he had killed one of the big guns in Purgatory.

The other monsters had been up to something since coming back from Hell. A place Benny had not been interested in though he'd seen them all going in and out of that tiny doorway. It left more time for him to stake out his own territory and build more traps.

But still, it was worth a look now to see what had been so all-fire important to take back from the demons.

Kneeling down, he used his weapon as a crutch for his weight and peered at the half-ripped face with its one unblinking eye. The skin reeked of ash and something sweet, not unlike blood and sweat mixed with jasmine. The alpha's blood was stronger in odour and he wrinkled his nose in disgust as it mixed with the meaty, sweat sour stench.

"Ah, cher," he said as he took another deep breath and committed the smell to memory. "Whoever you are, I am sure you have looked better."

But underneath that dismissiveness he tried to feel, Benny could feel something about her. As if she was resonating in power and he knew her. The way he had known every member of his nest.

The way he had known his maker and Andrea the moment he had gone back with Dean.

Reaching out, he gingerly touched that clammy skin and felt a zap like electricity. It fizzled and hissed up his arm, making it go numb for a few moments before settling back into a warm tingle. Startled, Benny flexed his fingers and shook his hand a few times before looking back to see the single eye staring back at him now.

Benny was so focussed in his frank appraisal of the body that he missed how the alpha's blood, now soaking the ground beneath the Mother's skin, caused grass shoots to spring up around her. He missed how the wound in her belly seemed to widen just a little more as the eggs she carried changed colour to burnished copper red. How her torn skin began to heal as the blood touched it and the remaining damage to her body was fitted with new flesh and tiny black scars.

"What are they up to?" Benny looked up at the creatures wandering close-by in the bushes, knowing he should move on. Move and get back to the tiny bit of the forest that he knew like the back of his hand.

But before he could stand, something slid around his ankle and held him still. Looking down, he stared at the tendrils of grey smoke curling around him like strange chains, and he flicked his tongue across his lower lip. _What have we here?_ he thought to himself and the tendrils slowly took form as a hand lifted and touched his ankle, stroking the skin beneath his trousers.

The spark he had felt before suddenly became a full shock that made his eyes widen.

"What the…" He glanced up from the shadows of his hat to stare at the half-ripped face, noticing that a second eye had regrown and opened. There were two orange tinged eyes that stared at him for the longest moment before blinking and revealing milky white consistency.

"Child." The voice was female, soft and gentle and he shuddered at the slow way it hit his nerves. "How long have I been gone for? I was asleep for so long."

Backing away, Benny jerked his leg free just before the face repaired itself slowly from decaying ruin to that of a beautiful woman. She lay on the ground, limbs slowly healing until the skin was smooth completely to his sight and her eyes slowly darkened to earthy brown. But despite her beauty, the only thing Benny felt was a growing sense of horror.

He knew who she was and every instinct told him to run before she saw his face, before he became trapped by her.

By the time the alphas came back, Benny was long gone. Instead, they found their Mother sitting on the riverbank with her toes dipping into the cool water. Leaning back on her elbows with her feet dangling, she was almost innocent and human in appearance. A few growled, thinking maybe a human had slipped through again. But when she looked over her shoulder at the growing amount of them coming out from the trees, something in her eyes made them all bow to a knee. It made her smile to see them all there and as she looked back out at the muted sunlit water, she tilted her head back.

"You waited for me. It is time I reward that."

* * *

_One week later…_

The old truck bounced hard as it hit a speed bump on the way into the diner parking lot, suspension grunting and groaning as its tires spun. The man driving it looked as old as his clunker of a truck and drove as if he was about to crash it into every other car, but he'd managed to get them there in one piece. He had driven over fifty miles after his midnight shift with just the promise of a pretty smile and a woe-begone story. He hadn't figured out that he'd been played with yet and likely never would.

Meg still found that twisting humans around her little finger was a past-time she actually enjoyed.

It was safer now to travel with the families and seniors who would stop to pick them up compared to how she had used to travel. Had it just been her, she would have risked the lonely truckers looking to cop a feel and the sport cars with unsuspecting yuppies. But she had Nyx now and she still felt too sore and too weak to do more than resign herself to depending on the humans to get them from point to point. Even that first teleport out to the highway had drained her too much. Using her blood to create hex bags and sigils hadn't helped her keep her strength, it only kept her from being found.

But it had been worth it. A week of silence though they had had to keep on the road while Meg tried to decide what to do. Nyx still treated it like an adventure and hadn't even caused much of a fuss when her mother insisted they travel at all hours of the night. Thankfully she could sleep practically anywhere and was enjoying eating whatever she wanted instead of the strict meals Linda used to make for her. Nyx would just smile at her mother and hold her hand as they waited for their next ride. Meg was pretty sure it was Nyx's big blue eyes and cherub-like cuteness that hooked the old people into picking them up. Certainly wasn't her anymore.

Meg wasn't even sure where she was going but she knew what she felt. She wanted to get to a safe place, far away from other demons, from angels and monsters, and try to figure out, finally, why she'd been brought back so many times. Each lonely road and motel room though only kept showing her how alone she was and Nyx's presence reminded her that she might be risking more than she knew running like this.

Feeling Nyx tuck herself up closer as she napped, Meg rubbed her shoulder gently and stared out at the diner as her ride slowed down. At two in the morning, it was so dark out that the bright neon open sign actually hurt her eyes.

"Winter's gonna hit hard this year, I say," the driver said. Meg made a hum of agreement as he pulled up to the curb. "Sorry, little lady, this is as far as I go."

"Thanks for the lift," Meg said as she grabbed her bag and slid out the passenger seat. The driver's eyes lingered on Nyx thoughtfully as Meg zipped up her jacket and made sure her hands were covered.

"Your girl is mighty little. Is this being on the road good for her?" he asked and Meg ignored him as she scooped Nyx up and slammed the door shut using her hip. The entire truck rattled from the force of it and the driver huffed as he watched Meg pass in front of the headlights.

"Real friendly. Well, that's what you get bein' on the road this time of night, I guess," he said to himself. He closed his eyes anyway. Even single sinners needed some help from on high, he figured. A religious man, he'd been happy to help the strange woman and her little daughter get to a safer spot. God's will, he figured to himself, and the Lord did work in mysterious ways. Folding his hands on the steering wheel, he murmured a low prayer to the angels.

"Lord, you ain't got to listen to a sinner like me, but there's a lovely little woman out here who needs you to watch over her and her little girl. Might as well send them a few extra guardian angels. Kid like that should be protected," he prayed. He nodded, happy with that late night prayer, and unfolded his hands. Waving to them, he drove away and with a pleased smile he'd figure he'd done his duty tonight. When he reached over and cranked the volume on the local station, the unusual whine of static and white noise made him slap the radio hard before turning it off. So much for a pleasant drive back.

Meg ignored the low rattle of the truck pulling away and gave Nyx a squeeze as she balanced her on her hip. "Time to wake up, monster."

Muttering against her neck, Nyx yawned and opened her eyes to look at the diner. Both of them could smell the grease and fried cooking, and after another yawn Nyx pointed at it. Meg was surprised when she started to chatter nonsense excitedly, her childish lisp fighting to express how hungry she was. She looked so excited by the prospective of food that she squirmed down out of Meg's arms and clutched her hand instead, almost pulling her along towards the steps.

Meg followed, one eye on the lookout as she did some quick math. She'd stolen quite a bit of money and the three hundred plus credit cards she'd lifted off the last driver would get them by for a little longer. She watched Nyx stop at the flower pots and grinned as she reached out and ripped one of the flower heads off to sniff it. That was her girl.

Nyx had adjusted strangely well to what her mother was and Meg hadn't even had time to talk to her about it. She just talked about everything else and accepted it.

At least, Meg had to guess she accepted it. It might only be a matter of time before something exploded and she was frightened by her own mother's true face. It did make Meg wonder just how different Nyx could be without her ever having realized it.

Shouldering the duffel bag higher, Meg followed Nyx up the sidewalk towards the diner and caught her hand back in hers as a few men came out of the diner. They looked at her, then saw the small child, and gave dismissive shakes of the heads. Apparently single mothers out this way were still taboo, Meg thought wryly. That was better for her since it kept any one off her back that she'd have to get rid of later.

They were almost at the foot of the steps when Meg heard a tell-tale flutter and felt the shift in the air of something almost electric.

Warning signs that she knew too well.

Closing her eyes, she pulled Nyx to a stop as she stared at the diner. "How did you find me?" she asked out-loud without turning. Nyx looked up at her but Meg still stared at the steps. She knew exactly who was behind her.

"I waited for something to show up, some sign or some signal. I'd tracked you to this county a few hours ago. Then your last ride prayed to the angels." Castiel's voice was low, nearly throbbing with anger and exhaustion, and it brought back fuzzy memories of another time when she'd kept him on the run for weeks.

"_Your stalking is getting better."_

"_I heard the radio. It was a mere matter of pinpointing which station via frequency."_

As Meg turned around, trying to be calm, she felt Nyx press tightly against her as she hid just behind her legs. Castiel stood on the sidewalk, coat still moving from the breeze and looking like the angel of the Lord he always claimed to be. The very air around him felt threatening and he looked it as well but weariness softened him just a little. Castiel's eyes were on her, his rumpled coat and messy hair matching the exhausted lines of his features.

Meg had to force herself not to teleport out right then and there.

"Cookie for you, you found us."

"I didn't expect you to leave." He didn't look away from her eyes even when she arched an eyebrow at him. "I had thought you would stay."

"Yeah? Got all I want right here, why would I need to stay? Nostalgia?" Meg snapped and she felt Nyx's hands tighten around her legs as she peeked out at Castiel. She knew that something was wrong when she heard the raised voice her mother was using. Biting into her lower lip, she held on tight to Meg and stared up at the man who was making her mother angry.

"I didn't expect you," he continued as if she hadn't spoken, not seeing Nyx's hiding, "to come all the way out to Oklahoma for the sake of running away from me."

Meg ground her teeth together at the condescendingly cool way he smiled at her.

"That is what you're doing, isn't it? I expected more from you."

Meg stared at him. She'd be impressed by his attempt to manipulate her if it didn't make her angry as well. "This is your plan, Castiel?" she asked, pitching her voice low. "Win me back by making me even angrier with you?"

"I did it for you," he said, voice just as low when he realized that Nyx was staring up at them. He glanced down and met Nyx's gaze. She made a small sound and hid behind Meg again. Castiel gave a crooked half-smile and then looked back up at the demon glaring at him. "And for her."

"Go away."

He shook his head. "No. I can't do that again. Not again and not now."

"I can make you," Meg warned and he stared down at her. He smirked a little, as if daring her, and with some astonishment she realized he would be willing to call her bluff on that. "Just give me your angel sword, Castiel. We can see who's laughing."

"We need to talk. About the fire. Let me have that at least." He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to argue. "Please. It concerns Nyx. She can have something to eat while we talk."

"I don't want to talk to you," Meg snapped childishly.

"Not even if it is about Nyx and how to keep her safe?" he countered, catching her where he knew she was vulnerable. At her name, the little girl peeked out at him and Castiel stared down at her. Meg followed his eyes and Nyx tugged on her hand now that she had her attention.

"I'm hungry," she insisted. "Hungry."

"Fine! Just... fine." Meg could sense that she was being manipulated by both of them, though unintentionally from Nyx. "I'll buy something to feed you, monster. Let's go."

She turned to go, intent on ignoring the angel, and he caught her arm. The contact nearly burned through her leather jacket and she turned slowly to face him.

"Let me go, Castiel."

"No." He stopped himself and took a deep breath before relaxing his hold on her arm. "Please. Give me some time."

Feeling Nyx tugging on her other hand, Meg closed her eyes and counted to ten before she exploded. "Fine. You can say whatever you want to say then go. You get ten minutes or however long it takes to get Nyx into a food coma, we clear?"

"Yes"" He let her go as Meg turned away. He watched her go up the steps, following her even when she let the door smack back towards him, and he shook his head fondly at her rudeness. He glanced down to see Nyx happily inspecting the booths to find the one she wanted to sit in before choosing one in the corner where she could look out the window. Meg snapped out an order to the tired looking waitress for coffee and menus as she followed, which Castiel softened by gently smiling to show they were just tired. The waitress rolled her eyes to let him know she'd heard it all before.

When he made it to the table, Nyx sat across from him with Meg fishing out crayons from the bag and handing them over to her to draw on the paper placemat. Slipping in across from them, Castiel realized how awkward this was when Nyx stared at him curiously, biting into her lower lip. As if she was trying to figure something out. She glanced up at Meg, pointing at him and making a sound.

"He just can't find another table," Meg explained as she stretched her legs out under the table. Nyx frowned and looked at him again, clearly thinking something else. Then her eyes dropped and she began to peel the label off her red crayon.

Meg caught him staring at Nyx before he could stop himself.

"She doesn't know what you are," she said bluntly.

"She knows you're a demon though?" he asked and she blinked.

"Yeah."

"Then it's likely what I am won't be a secret for much longer."

"What is she going to see? The species that makes you a pain in my ass?" Ignoring his glare, Meg leaned back as the waitress delivered coffee and waited patiently for their order. "What do you want, kid?"

Nyx screwed up her face, staring at the frowning stick figure she'd been drawing. "Don't know."

Sensing the waitress' boredom, Castiel cleared his throat. "Pancakes?" he asked her. "Please? She can share with me."

Meg's glare was a warning but he ignored it when he saw Nyx staring at him curiously. Knowing he wasn't the greatest with children sometimes, he stared back. "Okay?"

She nodded and looked back down at her crayons.

Meg waited until the waitress was gone and Nyx was drawing again, her back to them as she used the windowsill for her desk, before she spoke again. "So what do you want?"

He thought of a million answers with the first one being likely the worst to say right now.

"We need to talk," he said instead.

"I am done talking. But unless it concerns Nyx, I don't see what you and I have to talk about right now." Her face screwed up again as if that tasted wrong in her mouth. "Not even sure why Nyx should matter to you."

The sudden chill in the air made her look up from the table to see him staring at her.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" she asked, innocent and bitter all at once.

"You have no idea how I have felt or how I feel now. I've been waiting for this, even if it isn't how I pictured it." He stopped and shook his head. "She matters. You matter, Meg."

"If you think for a second I'm not going to stay angry and ready to kill over this, you have another thing coming."

"No… not that." He leaned back and wrapped his hands around his coffee cup, closing his eyes as he raised it to his lips. "I spent three years waiting for you. I can wait longer."

Confused, Meg arched an eyebrow at him. "You're just going to lie down and wait?" Her teeth glinted in a smirk as he opened his eyes to stare at her. "You'll be a long time waiting, angel."

He took a long drink, eyes never leaving her face. Meg met his scrutiny with barely concealed hostility and then looked away out the window, fingers tapping the table. Hyperaware of his presence, she made a point of ignoring him even when the waitress came back and set the plates in front of them. Castiel didn't move to touch it and with one eye on his hands she slid the plate over to Nyx and cut a few pieces for her. Nyx was still drawing, still talking to her imaginary friends with that low singing voice she liked to use, but at Meg's order she put down the crayons. She popped a syrup soaked piece into her mouth and chewed, massacring the other pieces of pancake with her fork.

Meg finally turned back at Castiel to see him staring at Nyx. Now that her memory, her true self, was back in order, she recognized that he was looking at Nyx the way he had when she was newborn. As if he couldn't believe she was there in front of him finally.

When he caught Meg watching at him, he nervously looked down at the table.

"She's beautiful," he whispered. When she didn't answer, he sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. But he didn't keep going; he simply kept stealing tiny glances at them as if he was afraid they were both going to disappear.

"We going to talk or are you just going to stalk me now?" Meg demanded eventually.

"I'm not even sure where to start."

"How about right when you wiped my memory, buried what I am, and left me on my own with Nyx?" she snapped out. Her daughter glanced up at her and then at Castiel, and both angel and demon knew she understood.

"He's a bad man," she said to Meg though it was more a question.

"Got that right," she snapped, eyes never leaving Castiel. He stared back at her.

"I did it to protect you, both of you."

Both demon and child studied him and Castiel had the feeling he was about to be interrogated.

"Nyx?" Meg asked and the little girl looked up at her. "Stay and draw. I'm going to just talk to Mr. Castiel here."

Something in her voice warned him he had no choice and he stared at Nyx. She stared back, swallowing another chunk of pancake, before she shrugged and kept eating. But as badly as he wanted to stay, Castiel slid out of the booth, following Meg to the small alcove near the diner door.

She turned on her heel and immediately began to rail at him. She was peaking in hushed whispers that were tight with anger and emotion and all he could do was stare and wonder that so much was directed solely at him. He wasn't even sure he heard a word she was saying. Leaning against the doorway, ignoring the curious looks of the truckers and other patrons, he stared down at Meg and felt something turn over inside of him.

He'd spent a week worrying over them. He should be furious with her.

But all he felt was relief that she was even staring at him now, that he could feel her pushing at him with her anger and darkness and thorny beauty and he felt some comfort that she was so vibrant now.

"You're not listening to a word I say," Meg snapped suddenly and he blinked. He stammered out an apology that she ignored. "I said get lost."

"I need to protect you."

"From what?" Meg sniffed, arrogantly looking away at where Nyx was pushing food around on her plate now. "I have to protect Nyx. That's my only cause right now."

"We can't talk here."

"It's here or nowhere. I have to find a place for Nyx to sleep for the night and I need to get something of a plan." Mockingly, she leaned forward. "You're not invited. I don't want you here with us."

He flinched and backed up a step. "Fine."

Surprisingly, he was gone from her sight in a heartbeat. As if he was storming off to prove a point.

Meg shook her head and headed back to Nyx. Leave it to Castiel to throw her off balance with almost flawless ease. She'd spent a week — _a goddamn week—_ trying to find her footing again, and getting nowhere. The only constant had been Nyx and now that he'd shown up she felt strange again. The little girl smiled at her as she came back.

"Full?" Meg asked as she sat down beside her, spearing a bit of leftover into her mouth. Nyx nodded and leaned against her. Meg chewed and stared at the syrup-stained placemat that Nyx had been drawing on. "What's that?"

"Me!" Nyx delightfully pointed out the smoke lines, the small wings, the halo and the black eyes. Meg frowned, looked at it and then at Nyx.

"Doesn't look a thing like you."

"Me if I was you. It's me!" Nyx said with a roll of her eyes but she continued to talk so fast it seemed like her sentences were overlapping. "When I go swimming. Can we go to the beach? What's a beach? Ducks? Ducks at beach?"

The childish lisp tripped over the words but Meg understood her maybe too clearly though she had to piece apart her sentences.

"Nyxie, are you dreaming about beaches now?"

"Like the water." Nyx drew a v-shaped bird and sighed. "Sad now. He was nice."

"Yeah well." Meg knew exactly who she was talking about. "Don't get used to him."

Nyx's puzzled frown didn't hide how rebellious she looked. "Bought me pancakes."

"No, Momma is buying you pancakes. He left before paying." Sensing Nyx about to throw a tired tantrum, she waved her hand. The waitress came back, slipping the bill on the table. But she stayed, lingering, her eyes on Meg.

"So, it's about time we saw you."

Meg tightened up as she realized what she was looking at . They'd been so lost in their arguing before that she hadn't realized that the waitress standing before them was a demon now. Castiel was gone and she'd been so distracted by Nyx that she hadn't even felt the rush of demonic power. Meg instinctively pushed Nyx behind her a bit.

Half the diner was, when Meg looked around, now demonic and she hadn't felt it. _Goddamn it, Castiel, _she cursed in her head,_ you can still muddle me up._ She hadn't even felt their presence or the spark up her body that let her know that her own kind was there. Waiting to gank her too, she bet.

The demon smirked at her as she leaned on the table. "Hello, Meg." Her eyes went to Nyx. "So, this is the little bastard. Weren't you a naughty demon to have her?"

Meg glanced again, this time at the exits to see them all guarded by a demon. Twisting around, she looked up and recognized the demon. It had been years ago but she knew this one. Old faces never changed.

"Dina. Long time no see. Last time I saw you, you were trying to get the Legion raised under Lucifer. How'd that go?"

The demon's black eyes flicked with unholy light. "You remember it at the most inopportune time, Meg. Soon enough if Abaddon gets opportunity, the angels won't dare invade Hell again. Nor will the monsters."

That had been news to her. Meg was careful not to show it as she grinned and leaned over.

"Heard there was trouble in Hell, the only reason that army would get organized. That's a shame if it didn't work out in the first place for you. Ranks must be getting thin if you're trying to bring back the old ones." She was gambling on buying some time while looking for information, but she was aware of Nyx shaking beside her. She was muttering under her breath, cuddling her toy close as she hid behind her mother for protection.

"Mm, monsters, Abaddon's war and Crowley's deals. All of it is important but Meg?" Dina leaned back, her apron looking stained by blood instead of flour. "We were sent to see if you were alive. You and this abomination. Looks like the intel was correct."

Her teeth gnashed aggressively at Nyx when the girl looked up. "Hello, sweeting. You look delicious."

"What do you want, Dina?" Meg blocked Nyx with her body as best as she could.

"Me? Nothing really. I'm just a foot soldier and waiting for my superiors so I can have my orders. Like you used to. It's been almost four years, Meg. A lot has changed in Hell. Just one thing hasn't changed." Dina leaned forward. "The price on that pretty head of yours. All thought you were dead, sister. Not that we mourned you. Still, better dead than being an angel's whore and mother to his bastard there."

Meg suddenly, desperately, wished she'd stolen Castiel's sword before he had left.

Dina was looking at her oddly though. "But you're different. You're you… but you're not _you_."

"Tell me about it," Meg said and she subtly grabbed Nyx's hand. A low ping sound in her ears made her glance down to see Nyx staring at the demon, her lips in a tight line.

"Oh, Meg." The older woman glared back at her. "You're not going anywhere. The King and Queen want to see you. And your little…thing there."

Meg didn't correct her, wanting to keep her daughter protected by not telling the demons her name.

"Are you going to come along quietly, or struggle?" Dina's eyes glinted. "Please struggle."

She lurched forward and Meg shoved Nyx under the table as she met the demon halfway, hand digging into her long braid. The other demons moved forward as Meg took a butter knife and slammed it into the demon's hand, pinning it to the table. Dina screeched at the blunt pain and Meg quickly straddled her chest.

"You come near us, I'll kill you," she threatened as she held her by the throat. The demon snarled up at her.

"You against all of us? You think we came here without being prepared? You are stupid, Meg." Dina lifted her head towards her. "You always were so loyal but stupid."

Something snagged around Meg, a coil of dark power, and threw her across the room into the diner wall closer to the kitchen. It was enough to make her vision blur in and out, the shock of pain catching her breath. The force dragged her up into the wall and pinned her against the menu board.

"Oh, really, this is just too much. It is like having a birthday all over again"

The slow British drawl made her close her eyes.

"I knew that letting them all run loose to find you would be worth it." Crowley stepped out from the kitchen. "Hello, Meg."

"Crowley." She focussed, her power warring against his, and slowly she came down to her feet though it cost her some strength. The way everything flooded into her - _memory, power, darkness _- made her stomach turn over and she swayed dizzily. "Long time."

"So you are alive. What a devious little angel precious Castiel was. He must have learned something from you after all." He dusted off his hands and stepped out in front of the demons to face her.

"You're ignoring monsters in Hell and whatever hijinks Abaddon is going to pull. Just for little old me?" Meg smirked. "How nice."

But instead of gloating, he gave her a confused look. He obviously hadn't expected her to know any of that. "What did you say?"

He looked back at Dina who shrugged, eyes on the floor as she nursed her bloody hand.

"Go get her little bastard then." He crossed his arms and took a few steps toward Meg, tapping his finger against his beard. "You know, whore, we always come down to this. You parry, I thrust. You let your guard down, I win."

She kept smirking. "What makes you think I did that?"

"Sir?" Dina's voice from the other side of the diner made them both look. "That brat is gone."

"What?" He turned to Meg. "You annoying little cockroach. Nothing changes, huh?"

Meg felt the snap of his power curl inside her but her own resisted it with more strength than she really felt. "She's a smart kid. She won't come out."

"You had time get a bit of power, a bit of your old evil bitch routine back, huh?" Crowley leaned in. "What a smart cookie. She must be a special kid for you of all people to protect her but where would you hide her?"

She simply stared back.

"You know ordinarily I have patience for the long drawn out torture but not this time around. This time I need answers and after the week I've had, I am just not in the mood, Meg." With a low singing hum, an angel blade fell to his hand. "Remember how this felt the last time? I really have no worry about you coming back if I do this again."

Her eyes locked on the blade as shock and memory came back to her.

_She could even feel its bite as it found its home inside her._

A sudden low scream and a glow of light made them both look over to the other side of the diner again. The rest of the demons cowered back in surprise as the light dissipated. The hum of Grace hung in the air and Meg stared at Castiel as he impassively dropped Dina's meatsuit to the ground.

"Castiel. Should have guessed you would still be sniffing around her like she was a bitch in heat," Crowley said, loathing in his voice. The angel narrowed his eyes at him a little and then stepped over the body, ignoring the demons behind him.

"I warned you."

"Me? I was just having a chit chat with dear sweet Meg here." Crowley smirked. "How is the happy reunion going?"

Meg slipped by him, knowing he wouldn't strike with Castiel there. Crowley's frustration was obvious as he watched her move to the table and peek under it. She saw two large blue eyes staring back at her from under the booth seat, and the shadows moved as Meg's power let them fade a little.

"I'm here," Meg murmured, her voice singsong, and in the next moment Nyx was in her arms. Grabbing the bag and the toy, Meg looked at the doors to find them still blocked off. She held Nyx tighter to her to keep from any of them seeing her face clearly and to keep Nyx from seeing their truefaces.

"Word to the wise. Those two are the least of your worries, Castiel. Not with the rumours going around." Crowley smiled. "You'll need my help, sooner or later. Make sure you got a bartering chip or I may not play so nice."

He looked at the surrounding demons. "Though, to be honest, I can't figure out why I'm playing nice in the first place right now. Maybe you need some roughing up."

"Hold on to me," Castiel warned Meg lowly as they both backed away from Crowley. Nyx squirmed in her arms. When he caught Meg's annoyed look, he chanced looking away from Crowley. "This is the only way."

"Only way out is through us. You're amped up, angel, but not that much." Crowley leaned against the bar counter and took a fry off the plate off a possessed patron's plate. He sniffed it and then tossed it to the floor in disgust. "The things humans put in their bodies."

Castiel lifted his hand and felt Meg reluctantly slip her hand into his other one, her eyes shutting. The glow of light that suddenly spiralled out of his hand was so brilliant that she could see it even behind her eyelids but she didn't hear the demons howling. No death rattles or the sounds of demons escaping his Grace. Nothing. She could only feel that shift in the air and the way his hand gripped hers as Nyx stayed tightly held against her.

* * *

When they reappeared, Castiel had taken them to the only safe spot he knew nearby: the Winchester's bunker. The old metal door made a familiar, comforting sight and he sighed in open relief before looking at the pair holding onto him. Nyx was pressed between them, still shaking with fear and cold from the night air, and he let his other hand drift over her dark hair for a fleeting touch to comfort her. Meg's eyes were still shut and she was so close to him that he could feel the press of her body against his, her breath on his neck.

Knowing he was taking a risk, he let himself enjoy the moment before he dipped his head low and murmured for her to open her eyes.

They were black when she did, lifting to stare up at him as he stared down.

The moment broke when she realized how close they were. She shoved away and knelt down, setting Nyx on her feet and dusting her off. Castiel looked around, eventually closing his eyes as he took in a deep breath to steady himself against what he felt.

"You okay?" Meg asked her and Nyx nodded, looking perplexed by where they were. She wrinkled her small nose and tightly held her unicorn to her chest.

"Where'd we go?"

Meg looked as well and then up at Castiel. "Yes, Castiel, where are we?"

He ignored the accusation in her eyes. "We're going to be safe. This is safe."

"Oh yeah," Meg held onto Nyx's hand, "safe as that firetrap was for us in the end."

He glared at the back of her head as she headed into the bunker.

The bunker hadn't changed much since Meg had last seen it. Still hundreds of books lining the shelves, weapons, tables and chairs stacked in no real order. It looked more lived in than it had before and was warmer than it had been in the past. But now there was the faint odour of smoke in it, underlying the old must of books, and she shot Castiel a look.

"There was a fire. When we were trying to defeat Abaddon's forces."

"Smells like it was a success," she drawled and he rolled his eyes.

Nyx stared around in open wonder at the high walls and shelves as they came to the balcony overlooking the centre floor. She pointed things out and tried to sound out the words on the books she could see but for all her excitement there was a thread of fear there. After the demons, Meg could hardly blame her.

Meg leaned over the railing, suspiciously looking for the Winchesters and not finding either of them. Or anything else that said they'd been around lately. When she leaned back, Castiel was watching her.

"Why'd you bring us here?" she demanded, ignoring the way Nyx let go of her hand to go look at the glass casing that contained a gold-cased dagger.

"It is safer than being in the open. And I want to talk to you. Nyx can sleep here and you can rest as well."

"This place was a cage for me sometimes. You expect me not to believe you are going to stick me in one again?" Meg asked. But the fierceness that had been in her voice before had ebbed a little.

"I expect you to do what I know you will do. But I want to tell you about the past three years."

"Cliffs Notes version I hope." She turned away and he grabbed her arm.

"You need rest. You're weak."

"I'm not weak. I'm…"

"You should have been able to sense those demons and you couldn't. I didn't keep you safe to see you die because of that!" he snapped and Meg wrenched her arm out of his grip though she didn't step away.

"I would love to see you…"

The clatter of Nyx making her way down the steps made Meg sigh and give up. Until the girl was in bed asleep, she couldn't risk arguing and fighting with the angel. Knowing her luck, Nyx would set some weapon off and explode the bunker.

He caught her arm again, ignoring her irritated sigh. "Does she know?"

"About what?" She spied his desperate look at Nyx. "You being her father? No. Thought it was safer that way. She's already having to handle her mom being a demon." When he didn't release her, she poked his side hard. "Going to let me go now? I want her to get some rest but if she gets wound up there's no putting her to sleep."

He let her go reluctantly and watched her follow Nyx down into the centre room. Resting his hands on the railing, he rubbed tiredly at his jaw and pictured another way this could have gone. Gratitude, reunion, happiness… perhaps something without all this uncertainty. God, he would have fought for all that.

Now he had to start over again.

But as he watched Nyx pointing out the strange pictures on the wall, sigils Dean had drawn as an experiment, he smiled and fished into his pocket for his small journal. He looked at the scribbles and numbers, and on the start of a new page he wrote down the date before putting the journal back in his pocket. Resolving to be patient, he reached for his phone next. He wasn't sure the brothers would be thrilled by their new house guests.

* * *

The werewolf howled as it charged through the brush, aiming for its prey with the deadly intent of a hungry beast. The tall young man looked like he was hunting and he'd been stupid enough to come into its territory. Central Kansas's small crop of woods didn't always make the perfect hunting ground and it was starving for a good kill. If this man was hunting on his ground, the werewolf would have to scare him off before it lost its original prey.

As it ran and pounced, something snagged on its leg, wrapping around in a noose and then hauling upwards with a whir.

The monster shrieked and roared as it was pulled around, silvery fur rippling in its fury. It swiped at the air and tried to swivel around to bite at the cable binding its leg but the noose simply tightened until the werewolf hung completely upside down from a tree.

Another man, smaller but better armed, grinned at it as he came within swiping distance. The werewolf roared and launched at his face but before it could get far it, a shotgun was shoved into its mouth.

"Might want to curb that," Dean said. "Play nice and I won't blow your brains out."

The werewolf's ears twitched.

"Change back, Mark," he continued and the creature snarled. He cocked the gun and made sure the werewolf could see his finger on the trigger. "I know you can control it, pureblood. Do it."

Slowly, the form rippled, from wolfish to human, and a naked dusky skinned man stared back at them from his upside-down tether. Unlike his other form, he was sinewy and small in stature and so unlike the massive werewolf he could shift to that Dean always second-guessed him. But they'd met before and he knew Mark was one of the few able to change so quickly.

"Winchesters," Mark growled, teeth still in fang form. "Should have known."

"That's us. Why is your kind moving around?" Dean asked as Sam came up behind Mark and bound his hands behind his back.

"Bondage first. Kinky," the werewolf said, staring flirtatiously at Sam. "I like how your mind goes, big boy."

Sam ignored that and backed up.

"Your pack was running in Maine, last record we heard. We left you alone because you helped us out a while back. Now you're in Kansas? What gives?"

Mark swivelled to face Dean. "Maybe I got bored."

"Not likely. You guys were a quiet pack, I thought."

"Might have been." He rolled his eyes, blood still rushing to his head. "You going to kill me?"

"Thinking about it," Sam offered. "Your pack offed that bus of school kids on your way down, according to a few hunters."

The werewolf growled. "That wasn't us. That was something else."

"You mean another pack."

"I mean another monster. We've been smelling them all around. It's why we left Maine last week. Ran close to the ground too. They were starting to show up in the wilds there. Became kill or be killed up there. I prefer the easy life."

"Sure you do." Dean rested the gun on his shoulder.

"What other monsters? Wendigo? Vampire?"

"Got me. They were pretty vicious and I didn't want my pack too close. But there was some real territory scuffles. Lost two good pack members because of it."

Sam sighed. "You know, I think you're lying."

"Now why would I do that?" Mark asked as he rotated around again to face Sam. "Do you know many children it takes to fill up a werewolf? It is an awful lot of work and I would get bones in my teeth. I hate that."

Dean clicked his tongue and the pureblood smiled.

"Really? That's your excuse for why it isn't you. Bony kids?"

"I can tell you this though. Rumour through the underground, through the other purebloods, is that something big is going on in Hell and Purgatory. We can all feel it."

"What, like an alliance?" Sam asked. The thought sent a chill up his own spine.

"Like the monsters would work with demons. You both had a hand in leading us over to them anyway." Mark arched his back and both men stepped back as he changed a little, skin dappling with silver fur. "Something bigger. Let me loose."

"Still can't figure out why I should," Dean said and the pureblood's eyes fixed on his face.

"Because killing me is fun, I bet, but who is going to call off my pack? We'll move on, back to Maine where the deer and the tourist play."

"You get twenty-four hours. Out of our state, you hear me?" Dean turned away.

"Hey, let me down!" Mark yelled at them as they walked away. "Guys! You can't leave me hanging!"

"Watch me," Dean called out as he and Sam went to where the Impala was hidden in the bushes.

Sam waited for the car to be on the road before he finally said anything. "Letting werewolves go now?"

"We'll let Garth know. I don't think they've been killing humans unless threatened."

"So we are now thinking that there is a difference again?" Sam blinked at the dark highway. "Dean, I get that …"

"Sam, think about it. He just told us that there is something moving up in Maine, where his territory was the 100-Mile. Where we both got out of Purgatory." Dean shook his head. "I get hunting monsters but if something big is about to go down in Purgatory, I want to be ready for it. Which means research. And if we killed him, we'd get his small pack down around our heads."

Sam nodded and then flipped open his phone. "Garth's sent a text. Kevin's left the hospital and he took him in."

"Good."

"Yeah I guess. Garth wants us to call him asap." Sam frowned. "Haven't seen Cas all week either."

"He's following Meg around I bet, " Dean muttered. "Here we go again with that mess."

"Maybe he's got an idea." He scrolled through his phone and made a faint 'oh' sound. "We can ask him in a bit I guess. He's at the bunker."

"What?" Dean looked at him as he gunned it out in front of a truck, weaving through traffic. "Since when?"

"Since he brought Nyx and Meg there."

"Oh… damn." Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Damn."

"You said it."

* * *

Castiel settled in the couch in the common room. He remembered sitting here when the Winchesters had taken him in for a few nights. He'd spent some time staring at the ceiling and wishing for something. Anything. Human or angel… none of it had helped at the time. He'd overindulged in alcohol and drugs at one point, his heart even stopping from too much sleeping medication, and both brothers had resolved to keep him from doing that ever again. Then there had been the other time him and Dean had drunk themselves stupid and smashed half the room up as they played a game of impromptu golf.

Funny how the bunker held good and bad memories equally.

The click of heels made him roll his head on the back of the couch to spy Meg coming in to the room.

"Any booze in this dump?" Meg demanded. "Last time I wasn't allowed to drink. Dean better not be holding out on me."

The angel had no intention of letting her know where the incredibly rare and expensive Scotch was. That would be pushing one too many of Dean's buttons.

"Bottom cabinet," he called out and she continued to grumble as she searched. When she came out, wielding a bottle of cheaper bourbon triumphantly, he watched her unscrew the lid and take a long gulp. Her eyes fixed on his as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve and he looked back down at his hands. Meg took slow steps towards him, eventually pulling up a chair so it was in front of him. She reminded him of an interrogator about to start her work and he watched her remove her leather jacket and toss it on the couch beside him.

She sat down and he realized she actually was going to question him.

"She's asleep in Dean's room. Tell me about what happened the three years I was a walking-coma."

"It's hard to explain," Castiel began.

Meg sneered. "Pretend I'm Dean and dumb it down a lot."

"If I do, will you listen?"

"First time for everything," Meg said as she leaned back and watched him. Castiel leaned forward and stared at the floor between them, not trusting himself to look her in the eye yet. He cleared his throat several times, aware of her still drinking as she waited. Then, finally, he thought of what to say.

"I didn't think I had a choice…"

Slowly, it came out. The three years warning from Death, the fall of the Angels, their battles with Abaddon and the demons, and Sam and Dean struggling to hold it together. How he'd had fallen and become human for a time. How everything had changed and then just as quickly become the same. The angels and demons, the celestial wars to get their revenge on the Metatron, and the way Crowley had bet against Abaddon… before ultimately joining her. The way the brothers had nearly been torn apart, again, by Dean's choices and then thrown back together.

He left out what he had done and hadn't done in those years, left out his doubts and sadness. He focussed on trying to let her know who the enemy still was and buried his own desire to tell her everything _he _had experienced as a human and angel. The loneliness, the fear, the anger and hopelessness; he doubted it was the time for that.

But the entire time he spoke, Meg's expression never changed. She was listening but there was something more guarded in her expression. As if she was understanding but frustrated by what he was telling her. He kept it short, realizing she was still too angry, the wounds still too fresh and deep. It had been only a week after all. The low hum of his voice sounded good to him, compared to her silence, but eventually he had to stop.

It was getting clear that her patience was reaching an end when he saw her begin to pick at the bottle's label.

"So all of that… all of that made it worth burying me?" she asked.

"No. Nothing was worth that except for you being safe."

She gave a chortle of a laugh. "Think that through, Cas. I could have been hit by a car, drowned, stabbed in a bar fight." She rolled her eyes. "All you did was get the possible blood off your hands."

Frustrated, he watched her drink more than half the old bottle down.

"You won't forgive me for what I did." He watched the way her throat clenched and swallowed, wondered at the way her fingers were curved claw-like. Like she was straining to hold herself in to keep from striking out.

"Nope." She leaned back in the chair. "Get to thinkin' that you didn't have much faith in me. Any idea why I should just jump back into your arms?"

"I did it for you and Nyx. I remembered how you felt about her."

"Then you forget one big thing, Cas." Crossing her legs, Meg's eyes narrowed at him. "You forget how I felt about cages."

"No, I didn't." He shrugged his shoulders to relieve the tension. "I came to find you because of what I knew Crowley could do if he uncovered the truth. I knew that after the fire I had to keep you safe. You and Nyx. But you ran before I could stop you, before I could try to explain."

"That's my modus operandi: flee to fight another day." She took another long pull of the bourbon and wiped at her glistening mouth. Her eyes went black and then brown, as if she was experimenting with her power. But from what he could feel, it didn't throb like it had before. Now it was weaker and he knew she was trying hard to keep herself looking strong. When her eyes dropped to his, he swallowed.

"So what do we do? If-if we can't at least find a way to work together," he began but Meg shrugged.

"We're going to have to have a fight soon, Castiel. One of those knock-down, drag out fights our kind is born to have."

The mere idea of fighting her made his stomach plummet. "I don't want to fight you."

She had a crooked half-smile with no warmth, just a sort of cool yet cruel look. "Doesn't mean it won't happen." Shrugging, she looked up at the steps. "Eventually."

"I didn't bring you back to fight you, Meg," Castiel insisted.

"Then why did you in the first place? Think back, Castiel. Why the very first time? When you pulled me out of the Lethe?" she asked and he flinched. "For what purpose except your own damn guilt?"

"You know why. I don't regret that."

"You may one day." Meg gave an odd sound and put her head in her hands, the bottle dropping to the floor between her feet. She made a low sound of pain and her fingers pushed at her temples. Castiel reached out to touch her and then corrected himself, putting his hands in his lap and clenching them on his thighs. Meg smoothed her hair back while taking a shaky breath, but even bent over she managed to look fierce. "How do I know you're not just going to up and leave again?"

"I swear…"

"Don't. I can't do this, not again, not after everything." She dropped her hands and he forced himself to hold her stare as she stood. "I need to be something more now. I have to protect Nyx and myself and try to figure out what the hell is going on. Even I can tell something is going to happen and I doubt it's a good thing."

Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember the fire clearly. "Whoever tried to kill me… they knew what I was."

Castiel watched her move in a distracted way towards the hall and he followed her closely.

She was muttering aloud, clenching her fingers almost nervously. "I need to be strong, I need to get back to being what I was, and I can't do that with you here because - because -"

"I make you weak?" he asked gently and Meg tensed up.

"This isn't about me anymore, it's about Nyx."

He knew he had to reach her. "Nahara, I - "

The word dropped the air to a chilly point, and he felt the gaping silence acutely. She'd frozen mid-step and he could read the tension in her body as if the name had stabbed at her. He hadn't spoken her true name in so long that the fluent accent he uttered it with sounded so foreign that he had to whisper it again to truly believe she heard him. Her head twitched to the side and she flinched again, her hands at her sides digging into her sleeves.

Castiel stared at the back of her head. "I…"

"You son of a bitch, you think that helps!" Turning around in a whirl, she stalked towards him and he retreated into the opposing wall, blocked in by the tiny demon until his spine slammed into the metal support. The pressure ached but he managed to not let it show. "Don't you dare use my name!"

"You said I should only use it when I meant it. I mean it now for you to trust me. You trusted me then." He caught her swinging arm and whipped her around into the wall, hands struggling holding her still. He let her continue to fight and spoke over her cursing. "Trust me now. I am doing this to protect you."

"Guilt looks so good on you."

"I've wait for you all these years, Meg… Nahara." He held her steady as she gave a strange sound and tried to get him to let go. "You're the reason I waited. You and Nyx."

"All those pretty words, Castiel. Things aren't the same, not now or ever."

"I know." He let her go so abruptly that she sagged back into the wall. "Heaven, how I know."

Meg looked away, eyes on the bottle lying on the floor and glinting with a hunger to forget. He watched her, wanting for her to look up and see what he wanted her to see. How much he wanted to see that demon he'd come to know. Vicious as she was now, he wondered if she was hiding herself from him. A way of protecting herself.

She'd done that before, years ago. But he'd spent hours, days, months, replaying every moment he had had with her in his head and he thought he knew her. Resting his own head back against the wall, he watched Meg's face pull into a disgruntled frown.

"So you're saying I should ignore everything you did?"

"No. But we have to worry about Nyx. You want to protect her, don't you?" He felt terrible using that on her but instinct told him that Meg would agree.

Judging by the way she glared at him, the demon knew what he was up to. "We need to talk to Nyx. She's a child; stuff like this is only going to terrify her if we don't tell her and some demon attacks again."

"The less she knows the better."

Meg rolled her eyes. "Please, she can see what I am, Cas. I bet you she can see something is wrong with you as well." Something cunning, that made her eyes narrow and her lips spread in a smirk, made him uncomfortable. "She's already going to be wondering why you are hanging around me so much."

It was clear when he spoke that he surprised her. "I think that it is for the best, if you have to tell her who I am."

"Oh no, Cas." Dark brown eyes fixed on his face. "That's all for you to do. Welcome to parenthood. I'm already sick of you hiding from it."

With a disgusted look, she shoved him back and left him alone in the common room before he could correct her. Castiel swallowed and realized just what she meant and what he had to do.

It was more terrifying than he had thought possible.

* * *

Crowley smacked the demon closest to him so hard that he shrieked and fell to his knees.

"I told you to ward the damn building!"

"We did! Against… against…"

Grabbing the man by the back of his neck, Crowley physically forced him to look at the building. "Do those look like Enochian wards to you? Hmm?"

"But I'm only versed in demonic wards," the demon cried pathetically.

"Bah!" Crowley shoved him face first down into the concrete. "I tell you, hired help these days is getting worse and worse." He snapped his fingers at another demon. "You. What's going on in Hell since I left?"

"More monsters being pushed back to Purgatory. No one knows why but they seem to be retreating. They were doing damage," she said, respectfully keeping her eyes on the ground between them.

"Well, I don't like it. What does old Red have to say about it?"

"She… she hasn't called up the others yet."

"That is for the best." He held up his hand. "Speaking of which… how would Meg know anything about it?"

"Well, she is one of the oldest remaining, sir," the demon explained.

"I mean how the monsters were heading into Hell? Abaddon kept that well hidden."

"Well, they are in her domain, sir. Meg is smart and it is possible she could just guess." Her eyes still on the ground, when he slapped her it made her head turn but she didn't fall. One of Abaddon's loyalist spies, he knew, but she was useful.

"I want you to get the word out. I want that bitch and her whelp found. I'll even reward the demon who does it… or the human. Let it whisper to the Hunters that there is an abomination alive and kicking. I want to see them drool over the prospect of getting their heads on the mantel."

"The Winchesters may still guard them."

"Then we'll just have to distract them, won't we?" Crowley's head tilted back and he stared at the ceiling. "And the best way is to follow them on a hunt."

His eyes glinted red as he looked at the demon. "Have a detail sent to that hotspot up north where those werewolves were hanging around and let me know immediately if they show up."

"What about the angel?" she asked, hesitating over leaving. She, like all of them, had seen how easily he'd taken care of Dina.

"Oh, I'm sure precious angel will be distracted enough. Go."

* * *

When Dean and Sam came back into the bunker in the afternoon, the quiet was disturbing except for the low hum of the television. Knowing Castiel as he did, and his love for television, Dean took his bag and headed for his room.

Finding a tiny girl sound asleep in the middle of his bed nearly made him drop his bag. Until he remembered who she was and then he caught the bag up before it hit the ground. Dean shot her peaceful face a puzzled look and set his bag on the shelf as quietly as he could. Instead of waking her up and taking her to the other spare room, he turned the light back off and headed for the common room where he knew Castiel would be.

Sam was headed down the hall, head down as he finished buttoning up a clean shirt, when a hand suddenly went around his throat and shoved him into the wall. He choked and stared down. Small as she was, Meg had him pinned like a fly to a board and her black eyes were threatening.

"How long did you both know?" she demanded without waiting for him to speak. "Did you know what he was going to do?"

Sam caught on to what she wanted fast. "He asked us to make you safe."

"So why the visits? Why even let me…"

"Because you helped us, that's why." He choked a little as she tightened her hand on his throat. "You were a friend."

She snarled a little. "Don't think I'm your friend, Sam. We use each other."

"Like it or not," he choked again at the grip she had on him, "Cas wanted to keep you safe."

"By destroying what I was."

"He hid you. He took a pounding for it too. Did he tell you about the past three years?"

Meg rolled her eyes and dropped him to his feet. "Cliff's notes version. Short, sweet… meaningless."

Sam said nothing about that. He wasn't about to say anything that might get him killed. Unlike Castiel, he could tell that Meg was struggling to figure it out for herself. "How's Nyx?"

"Sleeping in Dean's room. She's tired out."

"Well, being on the run will do that."

The demon crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head up at him. "What would you have done?"

"Same thing if I had a kid. Anything I could to protect them if I couldn't trust the people I was with." Sam stared down at her. "Good to see you again, Meg."

"Sure it is."

She followed him down to the common room and eyed Dean as she walked down the few steps. He was nursing a drink, leaning back in his chair at the long table.

"So, sleeping demon woke up."

"Shut up," she snapped, suddenly too tired to deal with either of them. Her mind was already trying to remember everything over the past three years. If the Winchesters had hated her for so long, why help hide her? Why hadn't they just shivved her and let the kid be raised by one of their hunter buddies?

Something she intended on finding out. When she had a moment to think clearly.

"Least Cas found you."

"He sniffed around, yeah." Meg ignored the angel as she sat down across from the Winchesters. He looked ready to take a seat beside her but at a warning look he backed away and sat at the end of the table.

Dean noticed and grinned. "You're really in the dog house, huh?"

Castiel glared him, not liking the reference. Meg rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers impatiently.

"Well, I'm here. Cas said I should find out from you idiots if something is going down. So I figure, why not? You guys probably know something."

"Nice to see you back up to the grade," Dean sniped back and she grinned.

"Like it's hard to out-think you two."

"Anyway!" Sam said loudly to distract them. Dean shook his head and set his drink down.

"We did some digging in Heber Springs. Linda's body was never found in the wreckage. But after what Kevin told me, what we saw, I-," Dean fidgeted. "I think it was Azazel."

"Azazel? Long time dead Azazel? Yellow-Eyes?" Meg frowned, memories flickering through her and she gave an almost wistful smile. "Well, shit. Makes a bit of sense."

Castiel crossed his arms over his chest and watched her reaction.

"Except it's impossible. He'd be locked in the Lethe if he even had an afterlife."

"Right, because, like I told Sam, impossible things never happen. As proven by you getting knocked up, right?" Dean asked in a biting tone. Meg glared at him. "Look, it's all muddled, I get it but what if he is alive? Linda died the same way as anyone else he took his plans out on."

"So that means Azazel is back? Why?"

"Why did he stab you?" Castiel interjected suddenly and Meg looked at the table, still confused herself. She remembered her attacker's low murmurs and vicious grin in a foggy way but Castiel's prompting made her reach down to touch where the wound should have been. Meg slowly turned her eyes to him. How he had known that…

"Not saying it is him one hundred percent but let's operate on the side of safety and say that something like him is set loose. Either way, we got a Big Bad hiding out and he's up to something. And Purgatory is on the move too."

"We think," Sam said. "Just lots of rumour and hearsay."

"You guys turned into gossipers in your old age, huh?" Meg's dark eyes almost sparked with anger. "Stuff went to Hell without me."

Dean rolled his eyes and then caught a glimpse of something at the corner of his vision. He cleared his throat and gave a pointed look to the stairs. Meg swivelled in her chair to see that Nyx standing on the second landing, dragging a heavy blanket and her stuffed toy behind her. Her blue eyes were fixed on her mother's face and she looked half-awake but clearly was scared.

"Nyxie? Bad dream?" Meg's voice softened, causing all three men to look at her in surprise. Rubbing at her eyes, Nyx nodded and came down to stand beside Meg's chair.

The little girl stared at them all and then at her mother. "Scared. I want to go home."

"We don't have a home, Nyx. Not anymore. Dean and Sam… remember Henry and Matt? That's them. We're in their home." She pointed at the two men and Nyx looked at them.

"Smells bad. Old," she declared grumpily and Meg grinned at Dean's offended grumbling.

"That's because they are old, kid."

Nyx huffed and looked then at Castiel. Her eyes widened as if she was really seeing him for the first time and then she looked at Dean and Sam. "He's not like them. Looks funny."

"Oh?"

"He's a monster?"

"You have to ask him that." Meg turned and faced Castiel. There was a viciousness in her grin that made him swallow nervously. "Maybe you two should have a chat while the boys explain to me what happened in my town. Have fun."

* * *

Castiel felt like he was going to his own execution as he followed Nyx to the steps that led down from the walkway, watching her slowly fix her blanket around her small body. She looked tired as she sat on one of the iron steps, her small face rumpled and her hair knotted in thick waves around her face. She scrubbed at her eyes and then hugged her unicorn tighter to her body. The torn thing had seen better days but she held it close.

He knew she wasn't even sure why he had to talk to her when she was nearly asleep, when she clearly wanted her mother. Crouching down in front of her, he licked his lips and leaned forward. Her eyes opened wide as he came closer and he had the feeling she really was seeing what he was. Her hands tightened on the toy's body but she didn't look away.

Castiel didn't realize that they shared the same intense look when they stared at one another. "Nyx, I…"

"You're glowy."

"I am." He stared at the top of her head as she looked down at his shoes. "Nyx, what is your mother?"

"Dee-de-demon." Her voice tripped over the word but when she looked up he could see that she understood what it meant.

"That doesn't scare you?"

She shrugged. "She's pretty."

"Yes," Castiel agreed. "She is that."

Nyx's eyes flicked to his face. "You think she's pretty?"

He grinned. "Always."

She fidgeted, pressing her cheek into one hand as she stared at him. "You a monster?

"I'm an angel," he blurted out. "I'm…"

Her eyes lit up in recognition. "Angels fly. You fly?"

"Not much." He reached out to touch her arm. "Nyx, do you remember who I am?"

"Cas-tee-elle," she drawled his name out as if to tease him. He smiled and her eyes fixed on him. This time she spoke more abruptly, "Castiel."

"That's right. Who am I though? Do you remember me?"

Her small face scrunched up as she tried to figure out what he meant. "No."

"Can I show you?" he asked, not sure that this was for the best. Nyx hesitated, then nodded. He held his hand palm up and she lay her tinier one in it. Murmuring low in Enochian, he began to focus his power on her.

"_Cicle Ananael_." His eyes gleamed a little as his Grace swam to the surface. "Nyx."

Something flashed in her eyes the way it did in his and for the first time he felt that tiny well of power flicker through her. Like a small electrical shock and suddenly he saw himself through her eyes.

_Blurred vision as she opened her eyes and saw his face close to her own. One of the first she'd seen. Newborn cries in the air as he cuddled her close to keep her warm and whispered that he would protect her._

_"Hello, Nyx."_

_Seeing his smile as he tickled her stomach, spreading his shadowy wings out to make her smile in delight._

_"You're so happy."_

_Saw his face turn to one of impossible sadness as his fingers touched her face._

_"I'm sorry, Nyx."_

Castiel eased the transfer quickly, sensing her fear and distress when the memories grew to be too much. Her eyes widened and she pulled her hand free from his. Her lower lip quivered and he gently reached out again.

"Nyx. I'm…" He cleared his throat. "You're my daughter. I- I'm your father."

The word sounded impossibly loud between them but he watched her face hopefully. Even for a child, it was obvious that she understood him.

Which was what made the way she looked away from him and down at her toy again so hurtful. Nyx seemed to pull away more than just physically from him; an invisible distance seemed to grow in that moment. Castiel watched the top of her head, desperate for her to look up again. His hand itched where she had touched it and he reached out again.

"Nyx?"

"Don't wanna talk," she mumbled, folding up into herself into a little ball on the step and refusing to look up as she wrapped the blanket around herself.

The longer he waited, the clearer it became that she wasn't going to look up. Forcing down the hurt and pain the gesture gave him Castiel sighed and stood up, retreating to where the Winchesters sat. He left her on the step and tried to forget the way her memories had shaken him as well.

Meg was staring at him, glancing possessively at Nyx as well.

"So what do we do?" Dean was asking, aware of Castiel's barely guarded gloominess.

"What do you do, you mean," Meg pointed out, looking away. "I'm not involved."

"You're staying here then," Castiel snapped and she stared at him until he met her gaze. "You're still regaining your strength. We can go investigate and you can stay here. You'll be safe from Crowley here."

Sam looked at Dean and his brother gave him a meaningful look. "I can stay, I guess."

Both angel and demon glanced at him. "I don't need a babysitter," Meg began and Sam grinned.

"I'm not leaving you alone in our bunker if Crowley is sniffing around, like Cas said. You need a place to stay and how many friends do you have left?" Sam countered and her eyebrows arched as if impressed.

"Since when did you grow a pair?"

He ignored her and looked at Dean. "Cas can get you up to Maine and back faster than the Impala anyway."

His brother shrugged. "All right, zap travel with Cas commences. I'm gonna get some weapons just in case."

Meg watched the Winchesters bicker as they walked towards the locked cabinet in the corner of the room, before glancing over at Nyx. The little girl was now playing with her stuffed toy and staring at her feet. For a moment her vibrancy was gone and looked like she was so deep in thought. Something that was unnatural for a child her age.

Standing up, Meg walked around the table and crouched down in front of her. "Nyx?"

Blue eyes lifted and she could tell that she had been crying by the tear-stains on her face. Meg reached out and stood her up, dusting her off.

"Go watch TV in the other room, I'll be there in a moment."

Collecting her toy and her blanket, Nyx was gone though she hadn't stopped sniffling. Meg shut her eyes and turned around, promptly smacking into Castiel. He stood so close to her that she had to put more space between them or risk touching him again. He was watching after Nyx as well and didn't seem to notice her.

"She didn't seem to take it well," he observed.

"You expected her to? She's three, Castiel." She rubbed at her stomach. "Kid's had it hard for the past week. Good that it's out in the open but don't be hoping for the perfect family life anytime soon."

His eyes dropped to her face. "Stay here, please."

Meg sneered at him. "Why?"

"Because I want you safe. And you know you can't keep running forever."

"Baby, I spent years running before we got tangled up. You still don't know what I'm capable of," she said and he looked into her eyes.

"No, I don't." He crouched to look her in the eye, and she jutted out her chin at him. "But you've never had to run from Hell itself with a child at your side, have you? Don't risk her just to prove me wrong."

Meg glared at him but was kept from answering by the Winchesters coming back, Dean carrying a few hunting knives and his gun. Both brothers slapped each other on the back as Castiel backed away from Meg, slowly and giving her a warning look the whole time.

"Be back in a few hours, don't drink all the booze," Dean warned Sam. "And try not to have your hair and face made-over by the kid."

"Cute," Sam muttered as he moved beside Meg. Castiel put his hand on Dean's shoulder but as they fluttered out his eyes caught Meg's. She could see the warning there and had the feeling that if she ran, he would know it.

But then they were gone and she was left staring at empty air.

"So, Moose." She turned on her heel slowly to look up at him. "Where do you keep the good booze?"

He blinked and looked down at her. "What?"

"Well, if I have to spend hours in your company waiting for Dean and the ex to get back, then I at least want to hear your war stories. And I get the feeling me getting a little drunk might make it easier when you hit the oh-so emotional parts."

He stared after her incredulously as she walked away from him to the common room. Shaking his head, he rubbed at his chest and followed her.

"Good to have you back, Meg."

* * *

The backdoor to Hell was pulsing, throbbing from the force of something that demanded entrance. The demons standing on the other side watched and waited, not sure what to think of the change.

Standing at their head, Abaddon tossed her red hair over one shoulder and narrowed her eyes. They had pushed back, slowly, at the monsters' invasion and were winning. She thought they were winning anyway. She hadn't heard from Crowley in days now.

Which made her think that the little worm was up to something again.

"Close it," she snapped at the demons heaving at the iron doors. Heavily magicked, they were burning the demons' skin as ten of them lifted it up and pushed it over the hole. Abaddon's own interest in Purgatory meant nothing. Not when she had others to control.

Legions of them.

Every day she could swear that she felt something breathing down her neck, waiting for her to turn her back and expose her weakness. The door was the first step for her regaining control. But as the iron door lifted and began to weld itself to the broken barrier, it smashed inward, crumpling as if it had been struck. Abaddon cursed and slammed her fist into the wall, pushing back with her own power.

But whatever it was on the other side was stronger than her.

For all her power, the door was blown backwards and sent the demons crowding the hall scattering. The light that poured in was muted sunlight, false but disgustingly bright in Hell, and Abaddon stepped around her demons to face the threat head-on. They'd accepted her as their Queen because of her willingness to fight, not knowing that her thrill for the kill was what made her do it.

There was a crooning noise on the other side, like animals mating, and through the light a slim silhouette stepped through, bare feet sliding over the iron grating. Arms lifted out to the side, the creature who came through looked like a woman at first glance.

Until her face came into full view, one side normal while the other was little more than mangled flesh. Her white dress was torn in the middle, revealing a belly half cut open so black blood and tiny round balls dropped to the floor as she walked. It was like seeing tiny grenades falling and Abaddon backed up a step as sickeningly sweet odours began to fill the sulphurous air. It smelled like over-ripe peaches and jasmine.

The woman was young, beautiful in a torn way, and she focussed her white eyes on Abaddon.

"Sister."

"Sorry, sweetie, we're not related," Abaddon said and the slow grin made her stare at the creature.

"I meant that as in… Queens… you are the Queen of Hell? A Mother to your kind in a way. That is what your kind told me, the ones who came into Purgatory. Abaddon, correct?"

"That's me, who're you?"

Her eyes rolled back in her head as if thinking. "I have so many names but the last… the last was Eve." Eyes now brown, she smiled gently at Abaddon. "And I'm looking for a way out."

"Crowley said you were dead."

"You don't think something that is born in Creation can be so easily killed, do you? By human men?" Eve spun and laughed, staring at the demons. "Mm."

"Going to have to find your own doorway out, sister," Abaddon spat the word out, "I've got a Hell to run."

"Oh, I don't need that many of you. Just two. Somewhat like the Ark, so to speak." She grinned and her teeth were fanged. "Any volunteers?"

"Get her back to her side," Abaddon snapped at two demons and her eyes focussed on Eve. "No offence, I don't play well with monsters."

"That's a shame. I've learned how to play with your kind if they get in my way. Live and learn." Her smile was wicked and a demon closed in on her. Turning, she laid her hand flat on his face and stared into his eyes. He stopped moving and stared up at her as if mystified by her hideous beauty. Eve bent close to him. "Kiss me. We have such places to go."

As if compelled, he let her kiss him and then the other demon on her other side allowed it as well when she turned to her. Eve moaned at the pressure of the kiss and the female demon shuddered when it ended.

Then, stunningly, Eve's own body slumped down and disappeared into a pool of black ooze. Startled, Abaddon looked as the ooze slowly evaporated in the heat of Hell. The eggs that had been dropping also evaporated and the two demons she had kissed turned around to face their mistress. She watched their faces closely for an answer.

"Well?"

One began to speak and then choked on the words. His head tilted back and he howled, a black plume of smoke rising from his mouth. Abaddon's head jerked left and right as the second demon did the same, and the smoke raced out of Hell, slowly changing to a brilliant orange colour. The bodies they had brought with them collapsed and exploded into fire but no demon noticed.

Not when suddenly the monsters who had been lingering on the other side of the door burst through and attacked.


	4. Change (When Angels Try)

_Summary: Investigating the 100-Mile leads Dean and Castiel to a horrific discovery about what has come out of Purgatory. Stuck in the bunker, Meg struggles with what she should believe and Sam tries to understand his strange feelings of pain and loss._

* * *

**Part 4: Change (When Angels Try)**

_Sitting alone with the edge of the bar digging into his stomach was not how he had planned to spend the night at first. But after a few drinks, he'd decided that there were worse ways to spend it than drinking and trying to find some company. Being alone, miserable and wallowing in self-pity the way he always did this time of year? That would only make him feel worse. Here at least it looked like he was trying to give a damn. It looked like he was __**trying**__._

_Without even looking into the bar's mirror, Castiel knew what he looked like: a drunk human who hadn't shaved or bathed in a few days. He could barely lift his own head with the headache he had and thanks to his hangover his stomach was already churning and making a sour feeling crawl up to his mouth. He spied his phone, still vibrating away on the bar as text after text, call after call from Dean and from Sam came through. He had told them he'd be back in an hour. _

_That had been three days ago._

_Sometimes it was better to drown his own misery for a while in a bottle or sleep it away. It wasn't often that he didn't have to deal with hunts, the long hours on the road, the angels, the demons, the research and the blood. It wasn't often that he didn't think of how he had lost what he was in one stupid moment of misplaced trust. How he had lost what he had, all because he needed to give them up or see them dead._

_Castiel had allowed himself one week to do what he wanted. There was nothing to stop him anymore. No feeling of Grace nagging at him that he had to toe the line. He was a plain and simple human now, had been for over a year now. He was a human who would do what all humans did, he decided angrily. He would let himself find comfort like a human, drink like a human, submit to urges like a human. Eventually, he'd age, wither, remember the good old days, and ultimately die. _

_Though the way he was already drunk — he was slowly getting every more into a stupor — was giving him that false hope that he could forget it all for a few hours._

"_Tired, handsome?" the bartender asked, leaning across the bar to pour him a shot and giving him a sympathetic smile. He'd gone to a smoky old bar this time, not minding the people here that went around looking for company and would always stop to see if he was willing. People who always moved on when they realized how hollow that search was. He sympathized with them. But he'd learned to not ask questions and just listen to them. Like an absolution, feeling another's pain was part of what he needed. _

_Alcohol was cheaper in these small places, he had figured that out. He didn't have much money anyway but the last round of cheap shots helped keep his good buzz going. Getting drunk helped, he thought to himself, and he nearly felt like forgetting. _

_Castiel tilted the glass up, poured shot down his throat and tapped the bar for another. The bartender's fine eyebrows rose high and she eyed the row of empty shot glasses in front of him._

_"Celebrating something?" she asked, grinning sidelong at him. "Haven't seen anyone knock that many back in an hour besides bachelor parties." She made a distasteful frown. "Or my ex when he dumped me."_

_Castiel hesitated, he always did, before blurting out, "It's an anniversary."_

_"Oh? Got married and regret it?"_

_His eyes flicked down to the row of glasses. "Never even thought about that. She would have gutted me," he slurred and then shook his head as her face swam before him. "Would've let her. She looked pretty in blood."_

_The bartender chalked that up to more drunk talk. Her job was to get as much cash out of him as possible without killing him with alcohol. Not try to figure him out._

_"She? You weren't married__?__" She poured him another one but this time he simply toyed with the small glass._

_"Lost them. I…" He hiccuped. "Made a choice. Lost 'em."_

_"Who? Wife?"_

_"My daughter and my… girlfriend." Castiel winced because damn, he could just picture Meg's look if he had ever said that to her face. "It's been a while now. I thought I was getting better. Even moved in for a few weeks with another woman just so I could feel something. Anything. Didn't work." Castiel spun the glass between his fingers, slopping alcohol onto his fingers. He slurped it off noisily and caught the woman's sympathetic look while his finger was in his mouth like a child. She gave him a sad smile._

_"Sorry to hear that. An accident?"_

_He squinted, trying to remember the story he told everyone. "Something like that. Thought I was fine… and I'm worse off now than I was before." He wiped tiredly at his face. "I guess I just think about what could have been."_

_The bartender reached across and patted his hand before she poured him another drink. "Life's too short for if's and maybes. Maybe you should be celebrating the good times you had, rather than the bad, huh?"_

_His eyes caught and held hers and after a tense moment she withdrew her hand. "I'm off in ten minutes if you want to talk."_

_They always said they wanted to talk but he knew that was never going to happen._

_He never let it happen._

_Castiel just needed to forget and he didn't want to hear more humans tell him how he should feel._

_It was just an hour later when his back was slammed against the cheap panel of the motel door and he heard her giggle as he stumbled against her. He let her mouth search his, tasting of tequila and mint gum. He could feel her fast movements, the hurried way she unzipped him and toyed with him. Trying to tease him in to responding and he lost his hesitancy as her warm body pressed into his. _

_He kissed her back, ran his hands down her breasts and felt the lushness of her curves and the way her velvety dark skin rippled when he touched her. He remembered to mutter back at her the words he knew to speak after some practice. Empty words they both moaned back and forth as they pushed against one another. Still he let a small part of himself remain distant; it felt like he was watching this happen from outside his own vessel. As she began to slip to her knees, pressing too-wet of kisses against his stomach on her way, he let his head loll back to stare at the ceiling. Drunk numb and already feeling guilt gnawing at him, he only felt some semblance to pleasure as nimble fingers unzipped his jeans. He remembered to act the part he was playing, remembered to stroke her face and moan as if he solely focussed on taking his pleasure from hers._

_Not for the first time, he wondered why he couldn't just forget and end his own misery._

"Hey, wake up." Dean snapped his fingers in front of Castiel's face and it made him jump in surprise. "You've been brooding instead of helping and I was saying that we need to actually find the spot. But we're still here lurking around. You with me?"

"Of course I am. I just need a moment," the angel answered and he stood up from the seat he'd taken on an overturned tree. The 100-Mile, even in the fall sunlight, was a place where anyone could get easily lost. Even Castiel felt a little directionless with its enormity. Dean had insisted this was the right area but after an hour of going in circles with not a sign of anything strange, neither of them were so sure. So Dean had given up and called Sam for help but apparently his brother sounded a little drunk.

"Likely that pint-size is drinking him under the table and it's not even three pm yet," Dean had joked and he didn't seem to notice Castiel scowling.

The thought of Sam and Meg drinking together, irrationally had made Castiel a little jealous and he had never before felt that towards either of them. It wasn't because he felt threatened by the human; it was the thought that maybe Sam could get her to listen when he had failed at it. That Meg might reveal something, say something that would matter, and he wouldn't know what it was because he was out here out of pure cowardice.

Picturing Meg and Sam drinking had made Castiel regress to the events of the past few years. That memory of that "anniversary" had always stuck out because that had been the first time he hadn't felt guilt over what he'd done. He had needed it. It had been what he had needed just in time to help the angels recover Heaven. At the time he hadn't felt guilt but now he wasn't sure what he felt.

It felt like fear. Fear that maybe he wasn't ready to fight for this again. He hadn't wanted to stay in the bunker and be faced with Nyx and Meg when he still didn't know how to fix this.

Dean pocketed his phone and looked up at the sky. "Well, let's move on. Sam said his map shows that is further up."

Castiel stood, brushing his hands on his coat and followed the hunter through the underbrush, watching him struggle. It seemed like even the simplest of branches seemed to trip him.

"Are you okay?" he asked finally when Dean stumbled again.

"Yeah, you know me. Just a little thrown off." He made a gesture at his friend. "What with Castiel Airlines having turbulence."

"I'm usually much better at that but you don't seem like you are feeling well." Castiel stared at the back of his head thoughtfully. "I mean, you look well but you seem unbalanced by something."

"Hey." Dean turned and pointed up at his face. "Stop checking me out, my eyes are up here."

Castiel glared at him out of exasperation.

"We're going to talk about something else, you got me?" Dean continued. Realizing there was no point in arguing, Castiel waved his hand and let him walk a little ways ahead of him. This time he didn't say a word when he saw him stumbling a bit more than usual. "So, let's think this through." He lifted a hand in air and began to tick things off on his fingers.

Following him, Castiel made sure to be on guard as Dean rattled on.

"Rumour is that Purgatory is acting up and monsters got into Hell. Monsters are out in droves, demons are squirrelly, we think Azazel or something like him is out there, and now we got your baby momma and kid back full throttle." Catching his breath, Dean turned a bit to see where they were and let Castiel catch up beside him.

"You think that it is all connected?"

"Don't you?" Dean asked, and the angel looked at him with barely concealed annoyance.

"I hope for all our sakes, it isn't."

"Yeah, but you know that's wishful thinking. Life doesn't always go the way we want it." Dean shrugged and clicked his tongue thoughtfully. "Let's go this way."

"You don't seem very sure about where you're going," Castiel said as he fell into line beside him.

"Come on, have I ever gotten us lost before?" That earned him a look that spoke volumes and he winced. "Okay, that one time."

"We ended up in a daycare instead of a vampire nest."

"Hey. Those kids bit me!" the hunter pointed out. Castiel rolled his eyes to the sky as if praying for help. "They did."

"They were children, Dean."

"Doesn't mean we were in the wrong place."

They glared at each other. "Maybe it would be better if we kept moving instead of arguing about this," Castiel said.

"Fine. But we're not lost."

Castiel waited until his back was turned before he shook his head. "I'll try to believe that."

"I heard that."

* * *

"Stupid! This was so goddamn stupid! Who said I wanted to be a writer!" Chuck shouted as he threw his research book on Hindu mythology to the other side of the room. It shattered the mirror he kept there in his study but he ignored the sound it made, the loud tinkling of shards littering his hardwood floors. He didn't care that he had just destroyed an antique; he was going to have his tantrum and like it.

"Piece of garbage!" He grabbed a globe and flung it at the wall next. "I can't do anything right!"

He continued to toss things around the room to try to make himself feel better, all the while trying not to notice the legal letter from his agent and editors. Anya, who hadn't shown her face in three years, had written to say his contract would be up if he couldn't produce a new spin-off series for Supernatural. He would be cooked in terms of a career. The sort of reputation he had in the writing world wouldn't get him a new contract either. He'd become a recluse and unless he was writing dramatic epics about either lawyers or young love in pseudo horror, then his career was as good as dead. Pulp cult novels weren't respectable enough anymore to let him write what he loved on his own time.

He hadn't written more than four sentences since ending the last Supernatural series.

"I hate this!" A paperweight crashed through his window next. "Why can't I write?"

He had played the story out in his head, the way he had every story. He knew it from start to end. He had had vision after vision. Epic battles in Heaven and Hell, the Winchesters smack in the middle, their ever-faithful angel pulled down to human level and then given his Grace back when things had seemed bleakest.

But with the Lethe's gates closed and no true touch leftover from original creation, he was stuck. Chuck had forgotten, the moment he had submitted his book, what he was. A creator.

He lost his momentum for writing slowly after the months, then years, when the Lethe was closed and he had nothing else to draw from He'd tried to be the happily drunk and eccentric writer he had been before. It was why he couldn't get over his own block. Every day he would get up and write the same four lines, over and over again.

_There was a coming threat that the Winchesters had thought to never see again. Something so terrible that no one else counted on. But they did. They were ready for anything._

Except that worked in a happy world and he knew that the Winchesters would never get that. In his head, with what he knew, they wouldn't be scared of whatever villain that came at them normally. They'd already faced too many things to be scared of a simple monster or demon. There was nothing to tell a story about and he couldn't make himself write.

Childishly, he slumped to his desk and ran his fingers down his face, pulling at his own skin so the bags under his eyes were drawn out and his cheeks went gaunt. The hangover he had from the night before was pounding through his head again. He made a grotesque groaning sound and glared at the opposing book shelf.

_"I bet you wish you saved all those notes. You forgot that without me there's no story left. You have nothing,"_ a devious female voice murmured. An echo of the past but it reminded him of that day when he'd burned everything of Supernatural. All of his old notebooks, the first copies, posters, fan letters, and disks, all of them destroyed. Everything except for his laptop.

He even hated that thing and so it was gathering dust on his desk again.

More than anything, Chuck hated being a writer.

"I'm all tapped out," he grumbled as he rested his chin on his arms and stared ahead of himself. Maybe he needed a few more drinks or even a longer vacation. But, he thought wryly, wasn't three years long enough? Groaning, he tapped his fingers on his desk in irregular rhythm as he looked over the books leftover.

Still, the longer he stared at the book shelf the more a single thin binder wedged between two thick volumes caught his eye. He squinted at it and clicked his tongue thoughtfully a few times before finally getting up to see what it was. When his fingers brushed the torn plastic spine, he knew instantly what it was. The binder, tucked safely away between the family Bible and _Divina Commedia_, was one of his old Supernatural titles he hadn't published after Swan Song. It was the only copy he had printed out himself and kept. His editor had said it was too dark and that she thought it could use a thorough rewrite. The cover art itself, something he'd drawn, was gory and bizarre even for something out of his own imagination.

Flipping through the still crisp pages, Chuck skimmed it through. All the notes, the plot points he had marked in the margins, were still in bright red ink but he didn't remember making them at the time. Swaying a little as he started to absorb the story, he flipped to the middle of the manuscript and began to read through to see if it could spark something to make a story he could write again. A few sentences here and there caught his attention and as he headed back to his desk, he began to flip through to the part he had highlighted in yellow. His favourite part, he remembered excitedly.

It was just missing some new characters, that was all.

Reading on, his smile widened and he scrounged in his pockets until he found a pen to start making notes on the pages. Chuck shuffled back towards his desk, ignoring the paper strewn mess on the floor and the broken glass that dug into his socked feet.

With a writer's cruelty, he knew exactly what he was going to do to make this story work.

* * *

The silence was killing him. Dean listened to Castiel walking so quietly behind him, not responding to much that he said. They'd been walking for an hour now and the angel hadn't said more than two words. It was starting to bore him and the last thing he needed to be in a forest was distracted by how bored he was getting.

"Maybe we should talk about Meg and Nyx. What do you think? Going to keep pushing at them, pulling the usual angel thing, or are you going to wait it out?" Dean said conversationally over his shoulder to Castiel.

"Why should I want to talk about it?"

"Because you're my friend and I can hear you thinking even when I'm walking in front of you." Dean turned and began to walk backwards, grinning despite Castiel's annoyed look. "What's wrong with talking about it?"

Castiel shook his head. "I don't want to discuss this, Dean."

"We've been through too much not to talk about it." He poked his finger at him. "You got them back. You know how rare that is, especially in our world? Don't let Meg put you off and don't hide it. Not everyone gets a second chance. Maybe this is yours but you might screw it up."

"Since when are you so enthusiastic about Meg and I?" Castiel asked as he passed him. Dean shrugged. "From what I remember, you never liked the thought of our involvement."

"Guess I'm getting older and realizing time is short," he said candidly. "Or maybe I feel bad for that little girl. Sam and I had to deal with losing our parents, we were pretty young for our mom and even our dad was distant with us. It won't be any easier for her, despite being an adorable hell-spawn with an angel for a father."

Under his light tone, Castiel knew that Dean was scolding him.

"But having both of you might help her. You said Death told you that Meg was the right choice for protecting her as a baby. What about now?"

"We never went over those details." Castiel followed him down the closest path. "I'll deal with it my way."

"Oh yeah, sure." Dean rolled his eyes and ducked under a branch. "Because that always ends well with you."

The angel glared at him and the hunter smirked back.

"Keep glaring, Cas, you know I'm right."

"What do you propose?" Castiel snapped and he pushed by him. Every stride was angry and Dean had to jog to keep up. "That I get on my hands and knees and beg, as if I was still human, for a forgiveness I'm not certain I need? If I did need it would I deserve it? Or maybe I should make promises we both know I can never keep?" He squared his shoulders and it was easy for Dean to picture him spreading his wings in angry display. "Do I still seem like some weak human to you?"

"Nice insult, thanks. But I think Meg seeing you on your knees would likely get her abusing that power over you. I'm just saying don't give up on at least being in Nyx's life to protect her." Dean reached out and put his hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Kid's gonna need you in the long run."

There was no arguing with that logic. Castiel exhaled slowly and turned his back on Dean again. He needed time to think but Dean's habit of pushing at him was just making this worse. With one last annoyed look at the sky as if cursing God for putting him into this, he inhaled again. A sharp, tangy odour very like blood and nothing like the smell of a forest, caught his attention and his head snapped around to try to follow it.

"You got something?" Dean asked, nudging him.

"How close are we to the exit from Purgatory?"

"Just a bit further if we were right this time." Dean looked up at the trees and that unsettled feeling that had been bothering him seemed to grow. "That's funny. Nothing from the birds. There's not even a breeze."

"I don't like this." Castiel glanced behind them as well and then at Dean expectantly.

"Yeah, what's to like, you know?" He put one hand on the knife still tucked in his belt. "Come on. It's probably nothing. The sooner we check it out, the sooner we can get back to keep Meg and Sam from killing each other."

* * *

"You-you are trying to get me drunk to get information out of me," Sam said, slapping his palm on the table as if discovering. With one eye on where Nyx was napping on the old couch near the television, Meg shrugged and leaned back in her seat at the table. She took another sip of the finer Scotch Sam had cracked out and tried to ignore the way he pointed at her. She had stolen his own journal out from under his nose and had been trying to read it for the past hour; would have been done too if he kept quiet. Sam was not making it easy on her by talking so much and she knew eventually she would have to answer him.

"Better than taking advantage of you, I guess. Your brother would get jealous of that," she said, barely able to keep her boredom from showing.

Sam grinned. "Or Cas would."

She waved her hand over her face without looking up. "Notice the demon not caring."

"Yeah sure you don't." Sam took a long pull from his beer. "Man, I'm getting drunk."

"Bad influence, that's me." Meg smirked and leaned back. He said he was drunk but she was starting to wonder if it was just an act. "You're not telling me much."

"What's to tell? Our lives went to hell and back about three times since Cas put you under that spell. We survived, we moved on." He scratched at his chest over his heart thoughtfully. "He told you about it."

"Cliff's notes like I told you. I heard what I wanted to hear."

"Ah." He tipped his bottle neck towards her. "But not what you needed to hear."

"This where you're gonna get Dr. Phil on me, Sam?"

"Get with the times, will you? He's old news now."

"Sorry, forgot how much downtime you hunters get between failing missions. I never got to see that much TV at Linda's."

"We're gonna have to have a funeral for her. She deserved a funeral," he said morosely and clinked her glass with his bottle. Meg shook her head. Still, drunk Sam was entertaining if not a little depressing.

He chugged down the rest of his beer and then wiped at his mouth. "So, you ever going to tell Cas about that month right after?"

"Moose, I barely remember that month."

"Sure you don't." He slumped back in his seat. "I do. We kept having to go back and that wasn't easy for us."

"He doesn't need to know about any of that."

"Oh yeah. You're all 'not into the angel, he's a prick' as you keep telling me, and yet you want to protect him from that."

"As in: it's not his business. I'm not his business," Meg snapped irritably. But Sam turned oddly puppyish eyes on her.

"You had his kid. Even though you're not even human, that's something you can never let go."

"Oh for the love of Hell," Meg muttered and then frowned. "Since when did you decide to try counselling?"

"I'm taking LDE in psych again," he deadpanned as he picked up a new bottle of beer and cracked it open.

"Nice. Try it on Dean, will you? Serial killer studies could never compare." Meg looked around at the bunker interior. "Why are you still hanging around this dump? The way you guys fight, I thought this place would have already been burnt to the ground."

"We had that. We're over it. Rinse and repeat."

Meg arched her brow. "A shampoo joke? Boy, you are tanked. What happened? You couldn't find a girl to pull you away again?"

"Like you've never been in love," Sam slurred. Meg shrugged again, not committing to anything. "Me? I've been in love. Lots of times." He took another drink and tried again. "Sometimes…" He stopped and hide a burp behind his hand, drunkenly smirking at her when she looked at him. "A few times at night if I find the room to rent."

"Soul sharing with Dean got you some of his better habits?" The demon grinned and shook her head but didn't stop flipping through Sam's journal. He was looped on just a few beers and since it would take more alcohol than they had to get her drunk it looked like she was in for Winchester bonding whether she liked it or not. She glanced at Nyx but the sudden sigh from Sam made her look back to see him staring at the table.

"Loved Jess." That morose note in his voice made her roll her eyes before she snorted.

"Please. Did you ever think that because she died you built up this illusion in that tiny moose brain of yours that life would have been perfect? If only she had just lived?" She rocked forward teasingly. "You boys are cursed to die bachelors. Always have been since you and Dean decided to look for your old Pops."

He swung at her and Meg easily dodged it so he had to slouch back when he lost his balance. She pushed her chair out to stand but before she could move far something about the way he was staring at her made her sit back down. Sam's drunken gaze had fixed on her with sudden intensity.

"You're telling me, in all those months, you didn't love him. Don't believe you."

Surprised, Meg stared back and he grinned when she didn't even try to answer.

"Knew it." He leaned forward and took a card from her. "You see, you may have been in my body, Meg, but I remember your sad little thoughts in my head too. I felt them. You're just like me. You act like the bad demon and sure, you are. Deep down though, maybe you were lonely, you were tired and you needed something to fix on so you don't go off the deep end. Deep down, you still like the idea of him. You were just scared, weren't you?"

She glared at him but he seemed to either not see or not care how angry his words made her. It was hard to tell with the way entertainingly drunk Sam had turned into depressingly drunk Sam.

"Me too," Sam admitted solemnly. "Scared me and Dean are gonna end up like Bobby or Dad. I've got Dean in my head sometimes and I know he wishes he could have a family, like I wish I'd gotten some sort of normal life."

"This your confessional, Sam?" Meg asked. "I've been inside some sinful priests before so I've heard better."

"It's pretty messed up," he glared at her, "that a demon and an angel have a better chance of a family life than two humans. What are you up to, Meg?"

"Jealousy just looks so pretty on you." She stretched and yawned. "Do a quick check on that one, Sam. We're not about to get all normal nuclear on you."

"Normal for you two just sounds ridiculous anyway." He hiccuped as if to punctuate the point.

Meg kept glaring at him until she realized that she was hearing the whisper soft murmuring of a child. Sam slowly turned to look at where Nyx was sleeping and almost immediately his face cleared. His eyes lost the glaze and his mouth was no longer slack. There was no sign of a drunk and every sign of a hunter who had been trying to manipulate his prey.

She decided to kill him later for trying to play her. Right now she had to worry about Nyx. With a parting smack on his arm, she slipped into the comfier part of the common room and turned off the television.

"Nyx? What's up, kid?" she asked as she crouched beside her daughter and shook her gently. Blue eyes popped open to focus on her and Meg was stunned when she felt a small shove in her own mind. The way another demon or angel would to try to show telepathy. She ignored it and patted her dark head, fingers combing through the tangled waves. "Bad dream?"

Nyx nodded and her tiny hands began to pull at her unicorn's torn body. "Bad monsters."

"No monsters are going to get you while we're here," Sam said comfortingly. He sounded completely sober and Meg reminded herself to not trust a Winchester at all, especially when it came to letting her guard down.

Her eyes wide, Meg's daughter looked around the massive walls. "Not in here."

"I think you need to get some food in you and then a real bed for a while," Meg said, disturbed by the very real fear she could feel in Nyx. Ignoring it, she looked over her shoulder. "You guys do have actual food right? I don't need to eat but she will."

"I'll have to go out and shop. All we've got is some bread and peanut butter," Sam said. He stood up, swayed on his feet and blinked rapidly. "Maybe I shouldn't drive."

Meg looked back around to see Nyx staring at Sam before her daughter turned to face her. When their eyes met, Nyx seemed to be staring at her real face, not just the human's she wore. She had the same look that Castiel would get when he was seeing under the surface of skin and bone. Resisting the urge to touch her own face self-consciously, she watched Nyx give her a trembling smile at last. The little girl soon threw her arms around her neck and pressed close, burying her face in Meg's shoulder and shuddering.

"Want the monsters to go away," she insisted and Meg swung her up, giving Sam a puzzled look that he met with equal concern.

"I need to go stock up on food anyway so I'll get something for her."

Meg nodded. "Fine. I'm going to put her down in the spare room after she has something to eat."

The way that Meg was acting around Nyx made Sam realize then how much she cared for her child. It was the same protectiveness she had had for Castiel in the hospital years ago. Maybe it was, like Dean had thought, a demon thing to be possessive and protective over their charges. He watched her leave the room before he checked his phone again, debating on texting Dean.

Instead, a series of texts sent from Kevin's spare phone stared back at him.

_I'm coming back to Kansas. I need to see you guys. It's about what happened._

He forgot all about contacting Dean for a moment. They had told Kevin he should rest, grieve, anything but try to be a prophet or a hunter.

Like he'd said to Meg, they even planned to stage a small memorial for Linda Tran. Both Winchesters had been fond of Mrs. Tran — Dean's schoolboy crush not withstanding — and for the first time they wanted to do something to show their respect. They'd never had time before.

It was because of her that Sam was alive now.

* * *

The clearing that Dean had come through that dark night years ago was now overgrown but even with all the brush and deadwood, he knew this place. You didn't often forget the first glimpses of freedom you saw when you escaped a prison. The massive stand of trees still protected it and the smell of something arid and rotting was intense, different from the more grassy scents further away. Dean rested his gun against his leg and quickly scanned the clearing for any danger before he crouched to check the footprints in the dirt.

"Anything?" he asked and looked to the other side where Castiel had gone to check the route leading down the other way. Something had distracted him, made him look around and think that they were being followed. He didn't have an answer for Dean as to what it was yet.

"Nothing." He sighed and turned, opening his own phone as if hoping for something. "Not even a…"

Dean's startled shout made his head whip up to see him flying up and into the trees. He was flung high and spun around until Dean was pinned to a large tree trunk, his head shoved back. Groaning in pain, he struggled to move even his head.

"Dean!" Castiel started for him but before he could get far, Crowley stood in his way.

"Ah ah ah." He grinned. "Put the big hero routine in neutral, will you?

"Crowley." His hand went for his angel sword but the demon had his own pointing up between them defensively.

"I know, I know. You warned me. Which is why I didn't come alone." He snapped his fingers and Dean dropped to the ground. He landed on his chest and his breath whooshed out of him the second he made impact. Castiel stared at him in concern but eventually Dean picked himself up, staggering a little as he rubbed at his chest. They were surrounded by a circle of demons who held ranks even when Castiel glared at them in warning. Crowley watched him closely but didn't back away. "So did that warning applies to your hunters as well?"

"What do you want?"

"Just information. It's why we followed you here."

"Why?" Castiel narrowed his eyes and glanced up at the sky. No signs of more demons, no angels, nothing. Why was Crowley flying so far under the radar?

"Because of your little brat and her mother," Crowley said. "What else?"

"Kid's got a name," Dean muttered and Crowley looked thoughtfully interested.

"Really? What is it?"

The hunter glanced at Castiel to see his eyes boring into him and he clamped his mouth shut when he recognized that warning. "Not like I'd tell you."

"Smart boy but only when away from Sammy. Must be the soul thing that makes you both loopy as kittens on catnip." Crowley glanced around the clearing. "So I assume you've been following the monster movements?"

"Caught our attention," Dean admitted.

"Mm. It's been hell in... well… Hell. No word yet as to what happened but we all felt something even when topside." The Crossroads demon tapped his fingers in rhythm on a tree trunk. "Maybe it has to do with your gal, Castiel. You know which one I'm talking about. The previously dead one?"

The angel glanced at the spot behind him.

"The whore?" Crowley prompted. He wanted some sort of reaction from Castiel to see what he was working with.

Watching Castiel as closely as he was, Dean saw his hands tighten into fists at his sides and wondered if that explosion he was overdue for was coming. Still, Castiel's self-control won out and he stayed calm. Clearly wanting to insult the demon, he turned his back on him and wandered around.

"What are you doing here, Crowley?" Dean asked, palming his knife. The demons closer to him glared and he sneered back. "You guys want something or are you just looking to ogle my ass?"

"I have a very invested interest in finding out why Castiel hid Meg and her offspring. Not to mention why you trusted baby brother with them." Crowley crossed his arms over his chest. "I actually expected Sam here with you. Not Heaven's guard dog."

"Why do you care?"

"I like Sam." Crowley's grin was sly. "Boy has potential."

"Sure you do. And I'm pretty sure Cas isn't that interested in you getting near them or us, right, Cas?" He looked around when there was no answer. "Cas?"

The angel was staring at the brush where the air seemed to be shimmering though no leaves or branches moved. The mirage effect was hypnotic, distorting the bushes and trees the longer they all stared, until the rippling effect shone so bright it hurt the eyes. The air that had felt arid before suddenly felt humid and uncomfortable, and behind Dean the demons shifted in confusion.

"Cas? What's wrong?"

"I don't know. Just a feeling." As if feeling it physically, he rubbed at his stomach and winced at some internal pain.

Crowley stepped around Dean. "Angel radar going whacko?" He ignored Dean's glare. "Or are you just dodging the questions?"

"I don't have to explain things to you of all people," Castiel answered without turning around. Crowley decided to take a chance and came to stand directly behind him at his shoulder.

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but I could have gone to the angels. Now I'm in a state of leverage here and I quite like that around you." He noticed Castiel's head tilting a little and assumed he was listening to him. "So we're going to all play nice and you are…."

"Shut up."

Insulted, the demon gaped at him. "Excuse me?"

But Castiel appeared to be fully focussed on the mirage he was seeing and didn't respond to the demon as he started to insult him. Dean came up to his other side and leaned forward to try to see what he was seeing. The smell in the air was suddenly sickeningly sweet, like corpses and jasmine, and he put his hand to his mouth to stop himself from vomiting in disgust. The ripple in the air became visible, as if something was straining to break through the shimmering in the air. As an orange glow began to slip through, the crack widened and a smell of sulphur overwhelmed the sweet smell.

"Cas?" he demanded.

"Dean, get back." Castiel pushed him further behind him and even Crowley backed away, eyes widening in surprise. "Get back."

"What the bloody hell?"

The crack suddenly flared out and snapped, like a floodlight turning on. Light pooled out onto the trembling ground as smoke and ash poured out from the crack in the mirage. The smoke drifted down, pooling on the ground in the form of a woman. Castiel blinked, a feeling of dread making him stand frozen to the ground. She looked like a demon to him at first but she felt…different.

The female lifted her head and screamed just before her body exploded into ashes. The light she had come from burst outwards in an explosion that began to flatten out the entire clearing. Waves of sound and heat rushed out like a flash bomb and Castiel felt the pull of something actually tossing him away from the clearing, while Crowley and Dean spun into the air as the wind snatched them around. As Castiel twisted in the air, he caught sight of Dean landing in a pile of brush and being buried by wood-chips and dirt. With a roar and hiss, the white light sliced through the air again and he felt something more powerful than he was throwing him away from the clearing. 

The demon who'd been standing just behind Crowley was the only one who stayed standing, feet almost glued to the ground as the others lay around him. He swayed and moaned as something kept his body tight and rigid. He'd been used to being the one possessing a body, to forcing the body to his will and taking what he wanted.

Now there was something else was latching onto his own demonic soul. Now he knew the fear of possession.

Arching his spine to bone-breaking limit, the demon threw his head back and screamed in agony.

He wasn't sure where he landed but it wasn't far away from the explosion. His ears were still ringing from the force of it and he could still feel the heat on his skin. It almost felt as if he'd been knocked around by an Archangel and the ache brought back painful memories.

* * *

Laying in a daze, smelling blood and fire in the air, Castiel stared at the midday sun with a little bit of wonder. For a moment, he forgot how he had come to land on his back in the middle of a forest with sunlight touching his face; he couldn't even imagine how it started. Then the aftershock from the explosion hit him fully and he started to choke on the blood in his mouth, rolling to his stomach and dry heaving as his body fixed itself from the force of the explosion. Any fractured bones slid back into place, his vision cleared, and eventually even the pain left his muscles.

He fisted his hands in the grass and pulled hard, feeling dirt in his fingernails and the slippery shoots ripping out of the earth. It helped bring him back to slow reality.

_What happened? Where was Dean?_

His memory was already blurry over it. He wasn't even sure what he had seen but he had seen the light and felt something oppressive move through the air. Something that had made his own power feel stunted and tiny. Which experience told him was a terrible thing.

Castiel rocked back on his hands and knees, and slowly pushed himself up, dusting leaves and dirt off himself. Wiping at his bloody mouth, he focussed on the sky and searched for a sign of anything strange. But there was only the bright sparkle of sunlight on the tree leaves, a cool breeze, and that forest smell of dead leaves and wood.

"Dean?" he called out, but there was no answer this time. Even stretching out his power did nothing to help him; he couldn't feel anything but the forest around him. He listened for any sign of Dean calling or praying to him but there was nothing.

"Castiel."

The sudden female voice behind him made him spin too fast and regret it as his vision swam a little in protest. Rocking unsteadily on his feet, he bent at the waist and spat out another mouthful of blood before looking up. The surprise he felt was genuine when he saw a familiar but tired looking angel staring back at him. The wrinkled black suit and studious framed glasses made her look out of place in the forest, even more than he did.

"Sandalaphon." He watched her glare at him, caution making her keep several feet away. They both remembered how she had guarded her brother from him. And how eventually she'd betrayed him. Still Castiel didn't trust her anymore than she trusted him. The angels had long since given up trusting each other so blindly anymore. "Anya."

Her nose wrinkled at the human nickname she'd taken. "Hello, brother." Her eyes flicked to the angel sword he let roll down to his hand. "That's not necessary."

"What are you doing here?" He circled her and she mirrored him.

"I have a message for you."

"Not from your brother, I hope," he said and she flinched.

"He is your brother too, Castiel."

"I have more things to worry about than the Metatron." His fingers tightened on the hilt. A subtle warning that made Anya's own hand go to her belt where her angel sword was tucked.

"The message isn't from him. I can't tell you who it is from, only that He is sorry. That some things are necessary to make the way for a better world. That He's sorry for what He had you do. Will have you do."

"What- what you talking about?" he whispered. Some absurd hope sprang in his chest, welled up by a faith that he had kept buried for so long. He refused to let it show even to his own sister though; he knew what it would cost to show that to another angel, especially one like her. But Anya was gone before he could force her to answer, just quickly into the air and he debated on pursuing her. Confused by her sudden appearance and infuriated by the way she had left, it was the sound of someone fighting close by that snapped him out of it.

"Dean?"

* * *

Groaning, Dean picked himself up from the brush with a head that pounded and the taste of coppery blood and dirt in his mouth. Even when he spat it out, the taste was still there. His ankle ached from where it had been twisted and he was sure that if he moved too fast, he'd collapse again. Whatever had exploded out in the clearing had been enough to throw him like a rag-doll and make him feel weak.

After wiping dirt out of his eyes, he looked around at the bodies of the demons still lying on the ground like corpses. Crowley was nowhere to be seen, nor was Castiel. There was only one demon left standing now, his back to Dean. Though he wasn't any more trusting of demons than he had been years ago, he knew that if the demons had been knocked down like bowling pins then something big was coming their way.

Better a demon for a decoy than him.

"Hey, buddy," he called out. "See what hit us?"

The demon's shoulders were shuddering as the orange haze that had gathered on the forest floor continued to circle him. The low hiss of breathing was something Dean hadn't heard in a long time, like a monster in a death throe or someone about to start weeping. What was the demon up to?

"Hey? You think that because your boss is gone you're off the hook for answers?" Dean asked as he approached the demon, kicking at the fog and waving it away.

Slowly, like something from a horror film, the demon turned around and faced him. One eye orange and the other black, he fixed him with a fanged smile as a line of drool down its chin. Whatever semblance of a man the demon had was something Dean could look through easily and see something monstrous starting to show just under the surface. The grey skin was so tight around the human face that it was skull-like and the demon kept unhinging his thick jaw like a snake.

Whatever this was… wasn't human-like right now.

He clenched Ruby's knife tight in his fist, eyes darting around. "Cas?" he called out. The demon launched at him, bringing with him a sickening sweet stench that was made worse by the heat of his own body. Sweat dappled the demon's forehead, as if he was burning up on the inside, and his eyes had a feverish glaze.

Instinct kicked in and Dean parried the swipe, slicing at the demon's stomach with Ruby's knife and then spinning again to bury a smaller knife into the demon unprotected back. The demon shouted as the blade sunk into his muscles from behind, and Dean twisted the demon knife into his stomach deep, but there were no sparks. Instead, the flesh on the demon's back seemed to close around the blade and in surprised horror, Dean watched the way the blade itself snapped at the hilt. Ripping Ruby's knife out of the demon's stomach, he swallowed and stared as the bloody wounds healed over as if being zippered from the inside.

Dean stared at the marks and then up at the demon's hulking form as he laughed at him. He gave a weak smile back and then shouted just before his throat was grabbed and amazingly strong fingers squeezed his windpipe. Unable to breath, he kicked out repeatedly until he finally felt his foot make contact. The demon didn't utter a sound as he threw Dean down on his back and the hunter rolled over onto his stomach, trying to scramble away the moment he was free. The demon landed on top of him and grappled with him until he was pinned down by that heavier weight.

"Dean Winchester," the demon's raspy voice whispered in his ear, hot breath smelling of sulphur and something rotted. It pushed his head into the dirt and Dean spat out a few clumps as he tried to wriggle out of the grip on the back of his neck.

"I know you?"

"Part of me." The hand on his throat loosened to stroke his neck, fingers tracking up the nape. "I remember sinking my - our - teeth into you."

Dean swallowed nervously.

"Or at least, part of me remembers that. The other part remembers but she is elsewhere. She is still rising."

Getting a leg up beneath himself, Dean kicked free with his other foot. Shoving up hard, he slammed his head back against the demon's nose, heard a splinter of bone and the demon fell off him. Before he could move far, the demon was already grabbing at his legs, nails scraping over his jeans. Dean scuttled back on his feet as the demon charged at him and he rolled over again to avoid being trapped by its weight. He quickly crab-walked on his hands until his back met an overturned tree and turned his face, just in time shutting his eyes as the demon came within inches of his cheek. The demon snapped his teeth against Dean's race with sharp click , just grazing the skin.

"You tried to kill me once. But you can't stop creation, Dean, when it gets its chance. Poor, poor stupid little human." The male voice was at odds with the almost maternal way he was being scolded and Dean tried to focus as his chest began to ache from sucking in too much air too fast. He tried to work it out though his head was spinning and his heart felt ready to rip out of his chest with how hard his blood was pumping.

"Eve," he whispered finally and he turned his head to see the strange bi-coloured eyes fixed on his face.

"Hello, Dean. You're only half-right, because I'm not only Eve the Mother now. I had to… share. Separate. Become something more. Thanks to this demon I'm using."

Dean swallowed down the bile that rose as he realized what he was staring at. How the hell was a monster using a demon like this?

"Do you remember how willing I was to work with you all? And I was betrayed. So I think it is time I perfect my children. I want what I am owed. Life. My family." Fingers digging into his throat, the creature hauled him close and he choked as the grip tightened. "Maybe it is fitting that the one who fed me the ashes of Phoenix is the start of that."

Dean tried to think of some clever answer, something to buy him time even if it meant he was beaten to a pulp for his infamous sarcasm. But the ache in him was so deep now that it felt as if he was about to die if his heart didn't stop beating so hard. The demon-monster's now black eyes fixed on his face and Dean winced as it leaned in close, sniffing at his throat. He felt the faintest brush of fangs on his skin and in his head he prayed desperately for Castiel.

But the creature pulled back before those sharp teeth slid into Dean's vulnerable throat and gave him a disturbed look. The once-demon dropped him to the ground and Dean felt his heart bang hard in his chest.

"You have a soul but its been twisted. Unusable." The creature growled and he was sure he saw the eyes slit like a reptile's. "What have you done, Winchester?"

"I…I…" He barely managed to stumble out more than a gasping breath before he had to stop. Dean's heart pounded and his ribs burned from the struggle to breathe through the pressure he felt inside. The demon-monster continued to back away, snarling at him but at least backing away.

Dean never saw him leave the clearing. His hands and face felt numb from all sensation, and he began to hyperventilate around the pressure in his chest. But nothing could stop that pain in his heart. It felt like something was spiralling inside, cranking the muscle too tight and when he tried to look around for help, he only saw lights starting to swim in his vision. Unable to breathe, he clutched at his chest and prayed for help.

As the ache in his arms and chest grew too much, Dean went to his knees, then his back on the forest floor. Grabbing at his arm as it went numb, he felt his heart squeezing even tighter and he tried to will the forest to stop spinning in circles around him while he fought the pain in his chest.

By the time Castiel found him, curled up on his side and his right arm clenched close to his heart, Dean's prayers had gone quiet. The other demons were gone, bodies dragged off by what he could see, and it was only the hunter left. Not even stopping to check the surroundings, the angel ran to him, dropped to a knee and pressed his fingers to his pulse.

"Dean… Dean!" Flipping him onto his back, Castiel saw Dean staring up at him but he was unable to breathe properly or speak.

He pressed his palm flat on his chest and he felt the barrier of the magic the Trans had put on the Winchesters pushing back at him, keeping his Grace from healing Dean instantly. Ignoring the burn of power rejecting him, he tried to see what was wrong just by look at Dean's ashen face. No sign of a demon's power or even a monster's poison, no bite marks or broken bones; it was as if Dean had just…collapse. This was something so basic and natural that it seemed inherently _wrong_ to be happening to the hunter.

What he found when he rested his hand over Dean's ribs made Castiel stare dumbly.

Dean's heart was giving out.

* * *

Sam looked at the rows of kid's snacks and wondered how on earth he was going to get something Nyx could eat that Dean wouldn't get into. From the bright colourful boxes to the cute characters, he knew that it was a losing battle to find something plain and simple. He was sure whatever he bought for the kid, Dean would finish happily.

How he ended up here was still a mystery. By all reason, he should be back at the bunker, pretending to get drunk with Meg while trying to see what her plans were as Dean had ordered him to. He should be making sure there was no trouble being caused by the demon and nothing lurking around the bunker. That was everything that he should being doing but here he was shopping for children's snacks.

Sam just hated seeing a little girl so scared. Maybe if he found her something children usually liked, then maybe when she was happy he could think of a way to figure out what she really was under that innocent face and what could be happening between her and her mother. It was a tricky kind of logic but it had seemed like an easy enough thing to do.

Until he stood in the aisle and felt overwhelmed by all the boxes and sale signs staring back at him. Too many colours, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut as it made his head spin a little.

He had never realized how many choices there were for kid's snacks. Picking up a package of cookies, he scanned the ingredients out of habit. "Jesus," he muttered as he read the list. "That's a lot of preservatives."

Grabbing a box of plain animal crackers instead, he tossed it into the basket with the other groceries and debated on picking up the colouring book stacked invitingly on the rack across from the snacks. He had seen all of Nyx's drawings proudly displayed on Linda's refrigerator and knew the way she liked to colour when bored. Sam reached out but then immediately stopped himself.

"Ok, this is just getting weird," he muttered aloud. "You're like the creepy uncle. Just get the food and get out."

Sam grabbed the book anyway and tossed it in as he headed to the cashier with his overflowing basket. Dean wouldn't forgive him for all the healthy food but better that than a three year old on a sugar high. He gave the cashier an uncertain smile as she looked at the groceries and then at the colouring book. He'd come here often enough that she knew his habits and he could tell she was surprised. She cracked her gum loudly and picked up the colouring book, arching her eyebrow at him when she read the cover.

"Cute."

"Yeah," Sam shrugged as he started to count his bills out. "I thought so."

"You guys finally adopted?"

He looked up from his wallet. "What?"

"You and that other gorgeous guy. You adopted a kid? That's so nice!" She dangled the book at him and he went a bit red when he realized what she was saying.

"Oh, he's my brother and no. We got a friend visiting."

"Oh." She gave him a disbelieving 'ah-huh' sound before she scanned the items. As he watched the prices ring in, the digital text flickering repeatedly, Sam felt a sudden pounding pressure in his head. The slow onset of a headache he thought but the overall ache from head to toe with a slow crawl.

She was on his last item when he had to clutch the counter edge to keep himself from falling over at the pain in his head and chest. It wasn't enough to knock him out but it was there and enough to make him need the support. The cashier gave him a worried look and, breathing heavily, Sam quickly handed over the money.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah." He cleared his throat noisily. "Yeah, I'm fine. Have a good night." He snatched the plastic bags and banged into the shelving units on his way out, not even caring that he knocked a few cans over as he tried to find his balance. The minute he made it outside, he dropped the bags on the Impala's hood and sank down to the curb, head in his hands. Staring at the ground in mute horror and listening to his own wildly beating heart, Sam knew that something was wrong with his brother.

* * *

"_I told you that she shouldn't have visitors, gentlemen." Nasally pitched, the voice grated on Meg's ears as she lay in her bed. _

_"She was fine a few days ago," a throatier voice muttered._

_"She woke screaming for her daughter and for an angel, and then she went catatonic. She has been in and out for nearly a month now. We need to consider moving her to a psychiatric ward. The state she is in may need far more care than this ward can give."_

_The nasal-high voice cleared. "And the insurance, of course."_

_Meg didn't think that she was catatonic. She could clearly see the two strangers standing at her bedside and the doctor who'd been pumping her full of drugs. The one who had been saying she couldn't move anymore. She was sure she could move if she really wanted to and maybe she was right. _

_She'd woken up in this place. No memory of who she was or what had happened. She didn't even know what daughter she'd been screaming for like this doctor had said she was. She felt like she was lost and the memory of what she was just out of reach._

_So she stared at them: barely able to blink, still unable to open her mouth and speak._

_"Well, lucky for you, Doc," the shorter man said. "We got some therapy for her."_

_The doctor huffed. "She is on every medication and physical therapy we can have in this hospital. I doubt your 'therapy' is going to work, sir."_

_The PA crackled, a fuzzy voice garbling out orders that sent the doctor out of the room at a run. The two men at her bedside watched the doctor leave before they turned back to her. The larger one bent close and looked into her eyes; searching for something she thought._

_"She doesn't look so good. Was this supposed to happen?"_

_"Not sure. Maybe it was an accident. An after effect or symptom." The other man was unbuckling her hands from the restraints and she wanted to do something, anything, to force him to put them back on. She wasn't sure what she was but she thought it made sense for her hands to be bound, to keep her down. For some reason the steady hold of the restraints made her feel safe in this room. He took her hand in his and she could feel the strength in that grip as he tested her pulse, and then shrugged. "Seems normal enough. Go get her."_

_When the other man was gone, he leaned down and looked directly into her face with his green eyes, an almost flirtatious smile touching his lips. "You know, I never thought I'd miss your bitchiness but anything is better than coma girl."_

_He turned away and she wanted to shout at him to look at her so she could try to figure out what he was familiar._

_A small Asian woman appeared holding a bundle in her arms. She shook her head at something one of the men said and Meg tried to focus on her as she approached the side of the bed. "She looks terrible."_

"_Hospital stays do atrophy muscles," the larger man said as he came in behind her and locked the door. The woman sat beside her, and Meg's foggy vision fixed on her though her eyes never moved._

"_Hello, Meg. I brought you a visitor. This time you get to really see her since your eyes opened this week. She's growing big."_

_She held up a small baby, not very old, and Meg's catatonic expression never changed though her focus fixed on the pink skin and blue eyes._

_This baby… this was hers!_

_As if in response to her thoughts, tiny hands reached out and touched her face and she felt a shock go through her, a sensation of feeling that brought life back to her muscles. The baby cooed and made garbled sounds as those beautiful blue eyes stared at her. As if she knew her and wanted to touch her more._

_Meg's fingers twitched on the scratchy hospital blanket._

"_It's working," someone said._

"_Come on, baby girl." The woman pressed her cheek against the baby's. "Wake your momma up. It's time she woke up."_

_The baby's other hand lifted and touched her face right over her eyes. Meg felt warmth flow through her, a drugging feeling, and she took in a deep breath as she regained slow control of every muscle in her body. Everything hurt from being asleep for so long but she forgot that as the baby continued to touch her. For a moment, it felt like she belonged here in this body with that warm touch comforting her._

_For the first time in a month, she blinked her eyes and her slack mouth closed and opened. Everyone took a collective breath but her eyes were only on the baby. The baby who touched her and cooed happily at the sight of her mother's slow grin. _

"_Nyx."  
_

It was her first real memory after Castiel's spell on her, and one Meg wasn't sure she liked remembering. She should hate that memory but she always relived it when she lay in a bathtub fully submerged, like she was now. It was how she had felt when she had woken up, no memory of who she was or what she was, that was always why she came back to that memory. Only that Nyx had been there and that her world would be fine even if her daughter was the only memory she had. So long as she had Nyx to defend. To give her a cause to serve.

Meg lay under the surface of hot water, feeling the way it slid over her smooth skin and the way her hair snaked around her body. Everything was sore again and she felt like she was crawling inside a drowning corpse the longer the water remained over her. Opening her eyes, she noticed the lights flickering and she released the breath she'd been holding.

Hauling herself up so she could lie against the back of the tub, Meg closed her eyes again and rested her head on the porcelain ledge. She'd only come in here because she'd yet to feel warm since returning to her true self. Her skin always felt cold and it was enough to disturb her, to get her to stay in boiling hot water for longer than any human could take it. Stuck in this body since the Lethe's side-effects had trapped her, Meg knew her small frame inside and out and she knew that it was as desperate to feel any warmth as the demon herself was.

But already the bath was getting cold and she'd been in here too long. She stretched out her power and felt Nyx in the next room, talking loudly to her imaginary friends as she watched cartoons on the old television. With Sam out to get supplies, the bunker was otherwise quiet and still.

It didn't help her concentrate. She was ready to destroy the bathroom out of absolute frustration. Only because she was so weak did it mean that the bathroom was left in reasonable shape though her darker power crackled and growled around her.

Turning around so she lay sideways in the water, Meg exhaled sharply before opening her eyes and focussing on the opposite wall and the shower curtain.

_Why had he done it? Why was she even now thinking about forgetting it all for the sake of getting rid of this feeling? For the sake of getting some sort of sense back to her messed up head?_

Meg shuddered and stood up from the water to stand on shaky feet, kicking the plug out before she grabbed a towel and wiped at her damp skin briskly. Each movement made her head spin from the too hot of water and the disoriented feeling left over from Castiel's spell. As she towelled off she tried to make a workable plan; with any luck, she could at least do some research on her own. The Winchesters had mountains of books and maybe there was some hint as to what she should do. Maybe even some inane prophecy or occult warning to give her a sign that she had missed before.

When Meg opened the door to the hall, she suddenly came face to face with Castiel, his own hand already lifted to knock. He stared at her, startled by the sight of her wet skin, and his mouth opened a little. Meg backed up a step to put more distance between them and her shoulder met the door. Suddenly wanting to be back to normal, to be how she had been years ago, she hitched the towel tighter around her small body and flipped her hair over a shoulder. The smirk she tried for came out as tremulous and shaky though; the towel covered her from shoulder to feet but damned if he didn't make her actually feel naked.

Eyes lifting to her face, Castiel's own expression went stony and cool when he saw the smirk on her face.

"You were in Maine," she blurted out. Castiel nodded and didn't say anything, nervously looking away from her instead. "Got back in a hurry? What, is a Touched by an Angel marathon on or something?"

He ignored that and turned his head a little to look down the hall. "I've been looking for Sam. Where is he?"

"Went to the store in town." Meg blinked as abruptly he walked away from her, muttering about humans and never being where he left them. She hadn't expected the brush-off. "Hey… hey!"

He slowly turned and looked at her with ill-concealed impatience causing his lips to tighten and his eyes to narrow. "Yes?

"What the hell is going on?"

"Dean's been injured." He adjusted his coat as if it concerned him more than she did. "I had to take him to a hospital for some care. I can't heal him like I used to. Not since the spell was cast on him and Sam."

"Sam left maybe an hour ago but he'll be back." Meg tugged the towel tighter and walked towards him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nyx still playing in the spare room but Castiel didn't look over. Glancing up at him, Meg took another step and cocked her hip to the side, trying for nonchalance. "Dean still in Maine?"

"I brought him to the closest hospital with the doctors we needed."

"Ah." She bit into her lower lip and shrugged. "What got him? Demon? Angel? Killer bunny rabbit?"

Something about the look he gave her made her step back again. "I was hoping someone could explain that to me."

She blinked. "Why are you looking at me like that? What do I know?"

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. "Never mind. I have to find Sam. Stay with Nyx and I'll be back." He gave her a frustrated once over when she rolled her eyes and walked by him. "Meg."

When she looked over her shoulder, he reached out slowly. His hand touched the edge of the towel and he tugged it higher for her, his knuckles brushing her skin. It was an absentminded gesture, something he did out for the sake of it, but he dropped his hand immediately when he realized what he had done. Reaching up, Meg quickly fixed the towel herself and rubbed at the spot he had touched.

"Keep her safe," he said.

Meg gave him an icy look. "What else am I going to do with her? Sacrifice her to the dark lord?"

Judging by the look he gave her, that wasn't funny to an angel and probably even less funny to the child's own father.

"I'll be back."

Meg huffed as he disappeared in the air. "Great. Sit and wait. Back to being appendage demon to an angel."

She heard Nyx calling out to but she leaned back on the wall and thought it out instead of going to her. If Dean couldn't be healed by angel mojo, if something had actually attacked him and Castiel out in Maine, then she knew there was something big about to go down. Something normally she'd duck under and avoid until she knew all the enemies and what they could do. But like it or not, Castiel had a point before. It had been easier when she'd run solo but now she had to protect Nyx.

Damn, if she still wasn't confused why she was so hell-bent on doing that.

* * *

_Beep-beep-beep._

It was that low, steady drone, the sound of a respirator hissing up and down, and the pressure of an IV in his hand that made Dean realize he was in a hospital long before he could even open his eyes. The drugs were making it hard for him to wake up out of the deep sleep and he longed to fall backward into that dreamless sleep. He could still smell something sweet in the air, an undercurrent of death just under the strong odour of disinfectant.

A hospital. He hadn't been in one of these for a while.

Licking his dry lips, he wearily tried to move his sore arm and felt the tug of the I.V. pulling his hand back down.

"Now now," a deep female voice scolded him, "Don't go pulling that out. We just got you settled and your friend was pretty upset. You'll get him scared if you rip that out."

His hand was patted and he tried to open his eyes to see who did it.

"You've had a heart attack, Mr. Winchester. A massive one and you had to be stabilized. It'll be better for you to just rest and wait to ask questions later, okay? I'll go see the doctor and you can sleep."

_How was he going to call Sam if he feel asleep?_

"Squeeze my hand if you are in any pain." He felt calloused but warm fingers slip into his and he squeezed, barely able to find the strength to do that. "All right, sweetie, you sleep and I'll get you something for that."

Dean let his fingers relax gratefully when the nurse let his hand go and the low serenade of the machines helped him drift off.

* * *

Standing on the other side of the glass, Sam tried to bury the panic he felt with anger. It was unfair — and he knew it — but he felt angry towards the one person he had trusted to keep Dean safe. He hadn't said a word since Castiel had found him outside the store and with too much calm had told him that his brother was in the hospital. Sam had already known that something was wrong and with the same sort of connection he had known what had happened. But to hear it from Castiel brought it to a reality he didn't want to face.

There was no fast healing for this through angelic power, Sam knew that. The brothers were connected by the soul and they had learned that meant a world of possibilities and restraints. They'd learned that Castiel's powers had limits now when healing them. Sam just had to have faith that Dean would be okay and he found himself struggling to find that faith.

It still didn't help the knot of fear that was building inside of him as he watched Dean's grey-tinged face turn a little in his sleep, watched his chest rise and fall automatically thanks to the oxygen he was plugged in to. Knowing that Dean could have died and he hadn't been there to protect him, cut Sam deeply. Guilt was already starting to work its way inside of him and he tried to think of any way he could have prevented this.

_Why had he let him go when they both knew they had to stick together?_

He had been vaguely aware of Castiel harassing nurses and doctors alike for answers. The angel hated not having answers for Sam and he had continued to pester everyone until an older nurse snapped at him to shut up and sit down; cowed, now the angel sat in the waiting room. Sam wasn't sure he could face him right now without exploding.

He'd forgiven him for so much before, because he always knew his heart was in the right place. Castiel tried to do the right thing and he had brought him to the hospital as fast as he could. But if Dean died, if he lost him….

What the hell had happened to his normally healthy brother?

"Mr. Winchester? You are his next of kin, correct?" Sam looked up to see an equally tall but very thin woman staring at him kindly. "I'm Doctor Sheran."

* * *

Castiel sat with his hands folded on his lap and tried to ignore the urge to get up and place. He itched to move from the uncomfortable plastic chair; he was always like this in hospitals. Here he could do so much good: bringing hope to those that needed it, helping with the sick patients who could use a healing touch or talking to the lonely geriatrics long since forgotten in their wards. But he couldn't even help Dean and that kept him seated, still edgy with frustration and hopelessness.

What made this worse was that he was struggling to focus on his friend when he was also worried about Meg and Nyx. They'd been left alone in the bunker and he knew through experience that it wasn't the safest place in the world right now, compared to years ago. His own loyalty to the Winchesters and knowing Meg could handle herself helped him stay where he was. He checked his phone to bring up the contacts, his fingers pausing on the number to the bunker's landline, but he stopped himself.

He needed to keep focused.

"They said it was unprecedented. Likely exhaustion and too much stress." Sam's voice snapped him out of it and he looked up to see the younger Winchester sitting across from him on another chair. He looked as tired as Castiel suddenly felt, slumping in the too small of chair and his eyes half-closed as he rubbed at his scruffy cheek. "My words, not theirs. No way of predicting it though the doctor thinks Dean had some signs before. That he likely ignored them."

Castiel looked at his shoes. "I'm so sorry, Sam. We were separated and I still don't know by what."

"Yeah, I don't — I don't care." There was a hardness in his voice that made the angel look up. "I get it. Something bad went down. I even felt it and we need to know soon what happened. But right now I have to wait for news on Dean. I have to be the big brother right now and that is so goddamn terrifying, Cas."

Nodding in sympathy, Castiel leaned forward in his seat. "I will stay with you."

"I think it is better that I stay by myself." Sam took in a deep breath and noticed the look that crossed Castiel's face. "I'm not blaming you, Cas. It's just that I can literally feel his pain and he'll only get one visitor at a time anyway."

_And you can't heal him._ The unspoken words nearly made Castiel cringe but he gave Sam a smile instead that had no feeling behind it.

"I know, Sam. I'll go back to Maine, see what I can find."

"No, you won't." Sam met Castiel's stunned gaze sternly when he stood up. "If something attacked Dean, you'll put yourself at risk and I can't let you do that. Go back and make sure Meg and Nyx are safe. Kevin's making his way to the bunker as well and he said he had information for us. I need to know what it is."

"I'm not so sure I should go back." Castiel reached into his coat pocket and Sam noticed how he seemed to be jingling something in there. It wasn't like him to have that sort of nervous habit and he seemed unaware of that he was doing it.

"If you don't go back, then you're hiding out and I know you're not a coward, Cas. I'll call you as soon as Dean wakes up."

Looking like a kicked puppy, Castiel walked by him and paused to put his hand on his shoulder. "I am sorry, Sam."

"I know." Before he could get more than a few steps down the hall, Sam lifted his head. "Cas?" The angel turned and looked over his shoulder. "Thank you. The doctor said if you hadn't gotten him here so fast, he'd be dead. I owe you."

"No, you don't," Castiel answered. "We're family."

With just a shift in the air, he was gone in just a few strides and once again Sam was alone with just his thoughts to worry him. As the PA crackled out an emergency, he sat forward in his seat and watched as a crash cart went whizzing by him. Instantly he felt his adrenaline start to pump, sudden fear for Dean making his mouth dry and his heart pound. But the cart was pushed into another room and he slumped back in relief.

He could already hear the shuffling and chatter of the night staff coming on and knew that he wasn't looking forward to a long night in the hospital. Crossing his feet at the angles, he leaned back until his head met the wall and stared up at the fluorescents. The headache he had started to pound and he closed his eyes, trying to will away the thought of Dean helpless and weak in the hospital bed out of his head.

* * *

The once-demon sat on an overturned log in the forest and stared at the werewolves that had snuck into this place. They'd come to her call, the closest pack to feel it, and she smiled at them all in turn. Since taking the closest body, a pretty albeit half-destroyed female, she had set about making it hers and it had taken more than a little bit of power to do so. Her head turned this way and that, neck snapping as bones moved and fixed themselves to what she wanted. She had taken on a more physical form that she liked, ignoring the protest of the meatsuit, and transforming it muscle and bone back into something more innocent and beautiful.

This felt better, Eve thought. This felt almost like new.

The demons all lay still on the ground before her like supplicants at an altar. Her power forced them to stay down and she savoured the sight of them in such poses.

"Things could have been so easy before. But your King, his demons and his humans, made it so hard. So very hard."

She cracked her neck loudly once more before she stood up and walked towards them, a trail of fetid black ooze following her. Her smile remained serene, as if she didn't care about the damage she had just done.

"Demons." Her nose upturned in disgust. "Parasites."

She had never hated demons before, not really. They had all worked together at one point in a strange balance. Now, because of them, she was divided in what she thought and felt, and in how she acted.

"You." Reaching down, she pulled a demon up by his collar. "Who do you serve?"

He blinked through the sweat that dripped into his eyes. "…Crowley." Summoning what courage he had, he glowered up at her. "And he will gut you again, whore."

Her eyes flickered and with just an easy clench of her fingers she cracked his skull open. Making a moue of disappointment, she dropped the bits of brain and scalp to the forest floor and for good measure snapped her fingers to send the demon to death.

The other demons were shaking as she knelt in front of the next one. As she went to the ground, Eve had to press her hand to her belly to keep the eggs nesting there from dropping out out of the open gash. Those precious changed souls had to stay with her and she would guard them with her life. If she had been whole, healing would have been so much easier. But it was slow, painful even, and she had to hold herself together with more power than she had used before. Maybe, Eve considered as she studied the male demon, it was because part of her was gone to hunt their prey.

_Where had the other part of her gone?_

"Why did Crowley send you here?"

"We… we were to wait to see what happened. To wait for the Winchesters."

Eve's eyes glinted to black as the soul she was attached to fought her. She had to shake her head to get it back under control and inside her own head she felt demon and human soul shrieking for her to leave them alone. Growling low, she sent an inward power out and felt it slowly, methodically, crushing those souls.

They'd be nothing but ashes soon. Leaving her with this sweet body to do as she willed.

"The angel wasn't supposed to be here," another demon hissed to himself and her eyes darted to him.

"Why?"

He shut up and bent his head obstinately. Grabbing him by his throat, Eve lifted him and tilted his neck to the side. She sank her teeth in sharp to the jugular, tasted the blood that flowed sweet on her tongue, and instantly a flood of brief memories from him told her what she wanted. Brief glimpses of Crowley, of Dean Winchester and Castiel, showed her that they'd been here and argued. But the angel and hunter had known that something was to happen, and Eve moaned in a mixture of pain and pleasure as she tasted the demonic sulphur in the blood.

Eve let him go when she'd drunk her fill and wiped daintily at her mouth as he lay on the ground, twitching as the venom in the bite start to try to change the meatsuit. His eyes flew open and stared at the sky, hands clenching in the soil.

Smirking, Eve scooped a handful of the eggs from her gaping wound and forced one of the tiny balls into his mouth. He choked on it and she held her hand over his mouth to force him to swallow; his gulping sounds were throaty and she cooed to him lowly. If he'd been human, her bite would be enough to turn him into something devastating. A demon could take the venom, fight it, but using the eggs with their pure souls would make this easier.

The other demons tried to run, to get away from her power, but she was on them before they could more than a few inches. One by one, she bit into their meatsuits before she force-fed them the tiny eggs and more than a healthy dose of her own power.

As she fed on demon blood, the entry to Purgatory began to pulse and a flicker of fire shone out before red light shrieked through with a hum and swam into the demons' twisted bodies.

But Eve was already thinking and forgetting their very presence.

"Impossible," she thought aloud, flicking her tongue out to taste a fleck of blood. Crowley had sent them here but from what the demon's memories told her, he was also looking for something else. He had left Hell to look for… another demon?

Eve grew slowly aware that the blood in her body was tainted from a meatsuit's disease and she spat the foul taste out.

When she looked down, the bodies were already rising. The meatsuit faces were already half rotted as the demon and monster souls that coiled within them fought for supremacy and the meatsuit was slowly broken from the pressure, the human soul buried even further by the power overwhelming it. Kept so close to their Mother for so long, the souls they were now infested with knew her mission intimately. They were her newest brood and she wanted the demon blood to perfect them.

Eventually, all of them would come to her completely. Her entire family.

"Hello, children." Eve's eyes glinted in maternal pleasure. "Time to work."

* * *

Standing in the tree stand close-by, the creature that wore Adam Milligan's face smirked thoughtfully. He could see, the way only an angel and demon could, the split in Eve's power.

She was changed. Divided.

A useful tool.

Far below him, he could feel Hell, which still remained locked to him, writhing in its pained throes as monsters invaded and tore the walls down around the demons. He even thought he could hear the calls of the Legion as they were unleashed.

It might take months for the monsters to be expelled again, months for the demons to realize the damage as Eve's new manipulations began to infect them and the humans on Earth. Months before even the angels moved against her.

Whether she realized it or not, Eve had helped him.

* * *

Stepping into the bunker only made Castiel feel more heartsick and alone than he had before. Without the Winchesters, the halls seemed dark and lonely, with no warmth or conversation. He'd come to look at this place as his home but really, without them it felt empty, even though he could hear the television and smell toast. Slumping against the wall leading to the common room, he closed his eyes and for a second felt the human urge to slam his fist into the wall.

It was too clear to him still. He could still see Dean's pain all over his face and the way he had shook and tried to find the words. Castiel had nearly watched his friend die before his very eyes. He had never felt that helpless as an angel before but this time he had been.

He let his head rest back on the cold concrete brick and listened to the low sounds of the bunker. Just down the hall Meg was reading something aloud, barely able to be heard over the hum of the generator, and he closed his eyes as he chuckled bitterly. Three years ago he would have gone to her seeking comfort, letting her caustic view of the world challenge him and force him to relinquish the power of angel righteousness to her more basic demon sensibilities. Three years ago he would have thought it strange but done it anyway because it would bring some consolation.

But right now, he knew if they met he would deliberately fight with her as a way of punishing himself for what had happened to Dean. He wasn't sure why he knew that, just that it would happen. If he had learned one thing about himself in his time as a human, it was that he was more than willing to hurt himself and even others if he thought he needed to.

Castiel rolled himself away from the wall and made his weary way towards Dean's room to pack a bag for him. Sam hadn't asked him to do so but it would keep him busy until he was ready to face Meg again. Swinging open the door, he took in a deep breath and nearly took a step in without thinking.

A small voice in the room across from Dean's stopped him. He knew who it was, knew he should just move on. _Just move on,_ he thought to himself but he heard her giggling. Closing Dean's door again, he crossed the hall instead while still listening to Nyx as she talked to someone.

Forcing down his instinct to run in and be sure she was okay, Castiel instead cracked the door open further and peeked around it. The spare room had been made almost homey with the blankets tossed around and a lamp casting warm light over once sterile and cold walls. As he leaned against the doorframe and took the room in, he remembered the long nights he had slept in here himself. They weren't the fondest of memories and it had never felt like his own room.

But the sight of his daughter sitting, surrounded by heavy blankets and pillows in an apparent fort, made him smile and move to lean against an old desk. Unaware of him, Nyx was making noises as she played with her torn toy and he saw her impatiently push her dark hair over her shoulder like her mother would. She turned on the bed and grabbed a drawing full of black scribbles only to scratch through it with an orange crayon. Still muttering away, she bounced around until she was in the same spot as before and tossed the drawing away.

Curled up on the big bed, Nyx looked so comfortable and happy that he took a seat on the edge of the bed by her instead of leaving. She was talking lowly as she played with her unicorn to some imaginary friends of hers that she always talked to, or so Dean had said.

Castiel marvelled at that. His daughter seemed so happy to retreat into imagination, which was a remarkable thing to him; angels and demons were not given to much imagination beyond manipulation.

_His daughter_. Heaven, that felt good to think and Castiel felt more than a little pleasure and pride in it. He smiled as he watched her and waited until she stopped talking before he cleared his throat.

"Nyx?"

She jumped when she realized he was there, grabbing the toy up between them to hold it protectively. Castiel watched her huddle up in her stack of blankets and pillows before she stared up at him wide-eyed. He gave her a half-smile and made sure to look relaxed.

It was easier to focus on her than to stay angry with himself. Nyx's eyes were searching his with a directness only a child could have and he made a point of looking down at her unicorn.

"He needs to be fixed," he said after a long pause, pointing at the stuffed toy. She looked down at it, nervously licking her lips, and Castiel still smiled as he waited. Finally Nyx looked back up at him, clearly puzzled by his comment. "I can fix him for you, if you want."

"Like him like this," Nyx muttered though she was pulling at the stuffing from a rip with her tiny fingers. She yawned and rubbed at her eyes with her other hand. "He wasn't happy bein' pretty."

Castiel wasn't sure what to say as she continued to play with the stuffing. If she was happy he would leave it, he decided, and he scrambled to think of something better to say. But when one of the tiny black eyes fell off and left a gaping hole in the unicorn's head, he saw her lower lip tremble and realized she had been lying. She picked up the eye and tried to fix it back onto the unicorn herself just by pressing it into the ruined fabric. His own heart almost hurt when her eyes welled with tears of frustration because her toy was so ruined.

"Nyx?"

Her tired little face turned up to him and he smiled, holding out his hand.

"Can I fix him? Please?" he asked and with tearful nod she handed the toy over to him. Castiel looked down and ran his fingers over the unicorn's body. It was likely such silly thing to use his Grace for but he didn't want her to cry like this.

The stitching repaired, the splotchy fabric cleaned itself, and the small stub of a faded glitter dappled horn fixed upright as his power manipulated it. Nyx watched, unable to hide how curious she was as his fingers glowed a little. Castiel caught her watching, smiled at her and then looked down as he finished his work. He left it a little imperfect, as she seemed to like it that way with its patchy look, but he made sure to strengthen the seams.

When his fingers snagged on a bit of stitching, he even wondered how many times Linda had fixed it for her. He stroked the faded purple fabric as the last thread knotted itself and noticed the way she stared at him now. There was still some distrust there but she looked like she was trying so hard to remember him clearly.

He handed the toy back to her and she hugged the unicorn tightly. "He's all better. Is he your friend?" he asked, trying hard to remember how to talk to such a small child.

"Clarence is my best friend," she admitted and he winced a little at the name. Nyx pressed her cheek to the now clean fabric and didn't seem to notice Castiel's look. It hadn't been until she said the toy's name that he realized that Meg hadn't uttered one of her nicknames for him since he'd brought her back. Not _feathers_, _wings_, _tree topper_… _Clarence_… none of that. While before her constant teasing and nicknames had been exasperating, now he missed them.

He watched as Nyx continued to press her head into the material as if to hide from him. Carefully, he stretched his power out over her mind and felt remnants of a nightmare there. Before he could get much further, something nudged at him. Like a closing door, he was pushed back but he knew what he had felt.

She'd been dreaming and had been scared of whatever it was.

"Nyx, are you having bad dreams?" he asked. She blinked and looked up at him before nodding. Castiel sighed at the fear he felt in her. "I felt your dreams."

He knew she was confused but he reached his hand out slowly to pat her knee. "You can… if you have a bad dream, you can find me."

She stared at him, obviously still nervous with him so close. Castiel patted her knee again before he stood up and dusted himself off. He was almost at the door when heard a faint sound behind him that made him turn to see Nyx fumbling with her fingers nervously.

"Thank you," she whispered, her childish voice stumbling a little as she nervously looked away. Though she spoke with the usual hesitant way a child trying to learn their words might, he knew what he had heard. Taking it as a signal, Castiel smiled and came back to sit beside her on the bed. He watched the top of her dark head until she finally looked up at him. Nyx chewed on her lower lip and finally crossed her hands over her chest in imitation of Meg when she was angry.

When she was still quiet, Castiel knew he had to speak first. "Nyx, why don't you want to talk to me?"

Maybe it was stupid to hope that her fear would give so quickly but it was obvious she knew what he meant.

"Don't 'member you," Nyx said petulantly and with the typical sort of childish attitude, she forgot that he had helped her. "But you make mommy sad. You...go away!"

"I-I can't," Castiel whispered in surprise. "I wanted to help her too."

His daughter's eyes appeared to grow darker the longer she looked at him. She stuttered and lisped over her next words but it didn't keep them from cutting. "If I had—had a daddy, he'd make you go!"

Closing his eyes, the angel steeled himself against childish misunderstanding and anger. "Nyx, I'm your father."

"Not suppose-ta lie." She raised the unicorn tighter to her face. "You not around."

"I would have…"

"Bad people lie. Aunt Linda said bad people lie." Those blue eyes fixed on him. "You hurt mommy and you lied! Daddies don't hurt, don't lie."

He flinched because, _Heaven_, she was too quick and too bright to lie to. "You can do both, Nyx. I'm not lying this time. Remember?"

His fingers abruptly touched her arm and a sudden shock of electricity made him pull his hand back. It was as if she was warning him and the crackle that made his fingers tingle was familiar. It reminded him of when he had first felt her power, when even in the womb she had thrown him outside Rufus' cabin.

Nyx blinked a few times to hide her tears before she sniffled loudly. His hand brushed over hers again, gentler so that this time there was no shock. Only the tremble of her skin beneath his touch.

"Do you remember me? My touch? My voice?" Her head lifted up and he used his Grace to slowly let the memories he had kept tucked away, safe and sound, be shared with her. Memories of his murmuring to her as a pregnant Meg had slept, of the constant thread of connection he had used to keep her feeling safe and calm. Of how he had touched Meg's stomach and projected his devotion to her.

"I used to talk to you when you were safe and tucked away inside your mother. As a baby," Castiel whispered and he crossed his legs on the mattress. Nyx plucked at her toy's fuzzy mane and he let his Grace ease away from her. "You remember my voice, don't you? Remember how I told you stories and talked to you?"

Nyx nodded and he smiled. "I missed talking to you," he admitted. Nyx sniffled hard again, still looking confused.

"Why'd you come?"

"I want to protect you."

"From bad people? The ones that hurt?" Nyx looked upset and he noticed the more upset she was the harder she had to work at her words. "But you bad. You left."

"Sometimes we can be bad when we want to be good."

Her small head tilted down and stubbornly she shook her head. "You hurt mo-mommy."

"I didn't want to. I loved her… still love her, and love you," he said. "Nyx, I…"

"Don't want me," Nyx whispered and her voice was so soft that he almost thought he hadn't heard her right. Horrified by what he had heard, he could only stare at her.

Suddenly he realized why Nyx was stuck on him being a bad person. She'd had Meg but she'd not had him and he remembered how close they had been connected even when she had been inside of Meg, even when she had been newborn. She was a child of an angel and a demon; it made too much sense for her to have a better memory than a normal child. If her memory of him had been reawakened before, like Meg's had, then he didn't know what exactly she remembered. He let his power search a little deeper and felt what she was feeling through that connection.

She thought he hadn't wanted her. She'd thought she had been abandoned by him because he didn't want her.

"I did want to be with you, both of you." He looked at his hands. "Badly."

She sniffled hard and looked down at the unicorn he'd fixed. "Left."

"I came back."

"You hurt."

Castiel had no answer for that. Nyx was already proving intuitive when it came to her parents. She was smarter than he had thought possible but Castiel knew she was struggling to understand. He wasn't even sure what to say to help her.

"Castiel." Meg's voice was pitched low and he turned to see her standing at the door. Her face was strained and she looked curiously tired. "She should be asleep."

As if frustrated by her mother, Nyx huffed. "Not tired."

"Listen to your mother," Castiel said automatically as Meg came to stand beside the bed. She raised an eyebrow at him in surprise but he ignored it. "You need to go to bed."

He saw that little jaw tense up and was immediately reminded of Meg yet again. "Don't have-ta listen to you."

"Yes, you do. Go to sleep," he said, ignoring her huffiness and pulling the top quilt back. She scooted underneath, grumbling the entire time, and tucked herself in before turning her back to them. Castiel shook his head. How stubborn she was! She reminded him of Meg in more ways than he had realized.

Gently, he touched her shoulder as he tucked the unicorn in with her and saw her tiny arm latch around its neck in a chokehold. His Grace circled her and being as discreet as he could he let it lull her to sleep. Whether she wanted to or not, the familiarity of it seemed to soothe her. When he finally stood up, Meg was staring down at Nyx with arms crossed over her chest. Their eyes met and he followed her to the hall without pause.

There was something ominous in the way Meg closed Nyx's door behind herself.

"She's very smart," he said when the silence was too much. "I can feel it."

"Well, angel-demon baby has to have some brains I guess." Meg leaned back against the door. "Gets it from me I bet."

"She's remarkable, Meg," he continued, unable to help the pride in his voice. The demon eyed him skeptically.

"She's also hurting."

That yanked him out of his pleasant mood. "And that's my fault, I know," Castiel snapped irritably.

"Not just yours." She shook her head and started to walk away from him. Castiel gave Nyx's room one last look before he followed her towards the common room. "I ignored her earlier. My head's been hurting and I forgot how she…. Well. Sometimes I still don't think my brain is used to being in Mommy Demon mode."

"You are good at it."

"Gee, thanks, Castiel," Meg said sarcastically. "Glad you approve of how I raised the lil' bit after this many years."

His own emotions were rubbed raw after seeing Dean lying in the hospital, after learning how Nyx was afraid he hadn't wanted to be her father. He had to remind himself that Nyx was in the other room in order to calm down.

"So what happened with the Winchesters?"

"Dean suffered from a heart attack," he explained through gritted teeth.

"Considering all the booze and pie, there's a shocker," the demon said. She was so thoughtless about Dean's condition that Castiel grabbed her arm and yanked her around.

"This isn't funny, Meg." Her eyes snapped to black immediately in reaction and he let fragments of his own power show in his. "These are my friends."

"Sorry if you think I should give a fuck about Dean and Sam Winchester but I'm a demon again. I don't care," she said, voice low so that he knew she was angry. "I will never care, Castiel. Don't try to make me seem human just because the old me is awake and you forgot what I was like."

"After all we've been through," he started, wanting to defend Dean and Sam. The peace he'd almost found with Nyx evaporated completely when faced with Meg.

"Hi, I'm Meg. I'm a demon." She jerked her arm free and waved her hand over her face before she started to walk away. "Or is that still hard to tell?"

"Just because you are a demon doesn't mean you need to be a…"

Meg ground to a halt and turned slowly on her heel to stare at him. He stuttered on his next word and she arched her brow. Approaching him with a threatening swagger, she gestured encouragingly. "Come on, Castiel, say it. Spit it out!"

"Bitch," he said finally, goaded. Meg's smirk transformed into something cruel.

"You learned you some big boy words while I was amnesia girl, huh?" Castiel glared at her as she spoke in that mocking high voice. She reached out and roughly pinched his cheek. "Guess you let Dean teach you some things about how to actually treat us demons."

He grabbed her hand when she touched him. "Don't do that."

"You're just pissed because I'm not living up to what you wanted," Meg continued. "What'd you expect? Sweet reunion? Me forgetting it all?"

She tugged on her hand and he tightened his grip so that he felt the delicate bones in her wrist grind together. "Let me go, Castiel," she warned.

"No." It wasn't clear if he was answering her questions or her demand.

Meg's eyes were onyx even under the fluorescents and she swung out her fist hard, aiming for his jaw. He caught the blow before she could follow through and they spun together even as she tried to telekinetically shove him away. Using her weakness to his advantage, he pinned her against the wall and kept her hands trapped in his. The circle of his arms kept her braced and unable to run, kept her still.

Though he knew he should feel some desire as she was pressed into him and she was so close, he was only aware his anger at her and the way she continued to find ways to get under his skin. Three years later and she still frustrated him more than he liked to admit.

"Let. Me. Go." Meg spoke slower, as if to snap him out of it, and he cautiously let her arms go. He had already aggressively backed her up to keep her from slipping by him and he made no move to let her pass.

"I am trying to protect you both but you are deliberately…"

"Can you think of one reason why this should be easy for you?" Meg ground out and he ignored the way she glared at him as she was going to go for his throat. "One damn reason."

"Because I can't let Nyx see something like this," he growled low and he leaned down as if to punctuate his warning. "Play the demon all you like but we both need to protect her from whatever it is that is starting to hunt us."

"Play the—." She shook her head, still almost shaking in her anger as she looked away. Castiel watched her face closely and when she turned her head back around he was so close he could see his own reflection shimmering in her black eyes. He waited to see if she was about to fight him and the longer he waited, the more he began to notice details he might not have noticed if she distracted him. The faint press of her hips on his, the almost heady scent of her, her anger at him causing her face to flush, the way her trueface was nearly snarling at him to back off…

_God, it was so beautiful._

Horrified with his own sudden reaction to her, he backed off and noticed her watching him warily. When he saw how her chest rose and fell rapidly, he knew he wasn't the only one who had felt thrown by their proximity.

They stood in awkward silence, Meg still against the wall and Castiel breathing just as deeply as she was. He swallowed and shook his head, trying to clear it of the muddle she'd caused. He wasn't even sure how she did that, even if it wasn't deliberate, but it felt familiar.

The loud bang of someone dropping something heavy on the iron grate caused them to look away from each other.

"Am I interrupting?" Kevin asked. He grinned at them and then lost it when he realized that it wasn't romance he was interrupting

"No," Meg snapped and she rocked forward. "We're done here."

"No, we aren't." Castiel's arm moved to brace on the wall and blocked her from going. Kevin swallowed as he watched the demon's head turn slowly towards Castiel. "We'll be with you in a second."

The prophet stared at Meg. "You're back to normal?"

She refused to look at him, her eyes on Castiel again. "Define normal."

"Kevin, go." The angel glanced at him. "Now."

Hands in the air, Kevin almost ran out of the hall and Castiel turned back to Meg.

"Are we going to spend the rest of our lives fighting?"

"Rest of our lives?" she repeated and then rolled her eyes. "You are so damn dramatic. Seriously."

He simply stared at her. "What do you want from me?" he asked. "Apologies? More explanations?"

"How about we can end this soap opera level angst for a while? My head can't take it."

He didn't move. "You should have been able to fight me. But you still feel weak."

"Oh, we can fight later if we have to. Just not in the mood now." Meg jerked in her place when she felt him close in on her again. Eyes watching his face cautiously, she clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides.

"Your head?"

"Just headaches. It feels like memories coming back and just tiring me out and then there's you getting all angel on me. Can't say I feel like putting up with much."

Castiel reached out and brushed his fingers over her temple, and Meg at first tried to pull back until his power snared her. He murmured something under his breath and his touch firmed until she felt his two fingers pressing on her forehead. The cool touch sent a numbing sensation through her skin, his Grace touching at her darkness until the two coiled around each other. The feeling was strangely intimate and he watched her lips part in surprise, her body just slightly arched into his. Her darkness snarled and bit at his light but he braced his other hand over her head and waited as his Grace found the cracks in her power until he realized that she wasn't fully healed yet from the effects of the spell. It was strange to be this close to the demon again and he found his eyes drooping a little as he tried to help her heal.

He felt her darkness crackling finally, as if it was a groggy thing being woken up again, and heard her make a low fluttering sigh. Head touching the wall behind her, Castiel breathed out and his fingers eased their pressure. When they both woke from the stupor they were in, he was pressed fully against her and he could feel her breath on his neck. Meg's eyes lazily opened and her head turned to let him see her eyes had become brown once again. Then the haze lifted and she realized what had happened.

With a shove, she pushed by him and shook her head. "Whatever _that_ was about. Thanks for the boost, I guess."

He wasn't sure if she was stronger but she did seem to be reacting faster. The sudden shift between them was confusing and Castiel tried to think of something to say. One look at her closed off expression had him wisely changing the subject.

"You know that she's dreaming?"

She nodded. "I felt it and it was weird. You?" At his nod, she sighed. "She never used to dream like that I think."

Castiel glanced at his hands. "What should we do?"

"We?" She pointed between them. "There is no…"

"Whether you like it or not," he interrupted, "we are going to have to work together. Somehow." He looked down the hall. "You should speak to Kevin about what he's seen."

The demon followed his glance down the hall and then looked at him. "What does the kid have to do with any of it?"

"Whatever he's been dreaming, Meg, has been about you and about Nyx. Ask him about the hellhounds." Putting his hands back in his pockets, he backed up a step to let her by. "I'll see to Dean and Sam."

"Fine." She walked around him, carefully putting distance between them. He stared the wall he'd kept her against, imagining he could see her shadow imprinted there, and let her get a few steps.

"Meg."

The demon glanced over her shoulder at him. He looked up and then shrugged.

"I think you're right."

He was gone before she could ask him what the hell he meant.

* * *

Hands tented under his chin, Sam watched the slow, forced way Dean's chest would rise and then fall. Now that he was supposedly in the clear, the hiss of the machines wasn't as loud as they had been before but they had kept him under sedation and oxygen a little longer just to be sure. After the last check-up, the doctor had made Dean's recovery seem so simple. Rest, medication, quiet living for a while would make everything okay.

Sam rolled his eyes and rubbed at them. Right. Quiet living. That would happen. They clearly didn't know his brother.

He reached out and patted Dean's hand fondly. "Gonna have to watch out for you this time, big brother," he whispered. "We've been through too much for you to croak over a heart attack. That's too easy. You die, then it'll be when you're going down in a blaze of glory with me at your side and we both know it."

He looked down and removed his hand slowly before putting his hands to his head and wearily clenching his fingers in his hair. His own heart no longer hurt and even the tingling in his arm was gone, though he thought his fingers still felt a bit numb. His headache was still there, throbbing in his temples and making him feel ill.

"You know." Dean's voice was hoarse and he coughed harshly. Sam's head jerked up and he saw that his brother's eyes slitted open just a little, just enough for him to distinguish the green of them. "That was a crappy pep talk."

He tried to laugh and started coughing again. Quickly grabbing the water left on the bedside table, Sam helped him lift his head and held a cup to his lips until the water was drained. Sighing, Dean wearily sagged back on the pillows.

"Damn it, Dean." Sam chuckled. "You scared me."

"Scared myself." His eyes fluttered before focussing on the ceiling. "Where am I?"

"Lawrence Memorial. Cas winged you here when you collapsed. I found the fake insurance Garth set us up with so we should be good for a few more days if we need it."

"Thank God for that." Dean plucked at the IV. "When can I get out?"

"Soon. They wanted you on observation."

"Damn, I want out _now. _I just…damn I hate hospitals."

"Yeah, I know." Sam smiled and pulled the chair closer. "Look, Dean, I…"

"You felt it too, huh?" Dean rolled his head on the pillow toward him. He saw his brother nod, saw how earnestly he looked at him, and realizing what was wrong he sighed weakly. "Sammy?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"I was scared too." Dean sniffed hard as if to hold back tears and masked it by rubbing at his eyes. The sight of his brother, his strong and capable brother, caving under the fear made Sam swallow down the lump in his throat. "Knife wounds, gun shots, even monster bites I can deal with. But a heart attack?" Dean shut his eyes a little as the drugs kicked in. "Didn't see that coming."

"No one would."

"Cas couldn't heal me."

"No. Said that the spell on us makes it hard for him to solve anything like this." Sam glanced at the monitor to be sure Dean wasn't just going to suddenly fade on him. His voice was so slow that it was clear he was about to fall asleep again soon and the monitor showed his heartbeat was slowing just a little.

"I saw her, Sam. But it wasn't her. Body was all different but it was just like her."

"Who?"

"Didn't bite me though. Said there was something wrong with me just before my heart gave out." He blinked and his eyes widened as if remembering something. "What the hell came out of there? I…I..."

"Dean, who did you see?" Sam demanded when his brother's words began to slur even more.

Dean's head rolled back toward him, eyes shutting and his hands going slack on his chest. "Eve. Or something like her."

* * *

Standing just inside the emergency room of a Kansas hospital, the monster stared up at the people who had come in for late night help. Broken bones, bloody cuts, heart attacks; he sucked in a deep breath through his mouth and tasted their weakness on his tongue. He could smell the humans, the medicine, the sickly scents of death lingering within the hospital. Under the odours, he could smell demons. Demons who were waiting for someone or something to give them orders. Somewhere, deep in this hospital, they were manipulating and serving their purpose for their ruler.

The awareness in him was so strong that he licked his lips hungrily.

He was vicious where she had been kind, interested in only destruction where she had been concerned with creation. They shared the same thoughts and memories, even the same mind because they'd once been the same. But now, separated by hundreds of miles and thousands of people between, he was free to do their joint will.

Licking his lips once more, he started for the desk and tapped the bell repeatedly for the joy of it.

A young man in red scrubs looked up and quickly removed the bell from his reach. "Can I help you?"

"I need something from you."

"Do you have an illness or injury?"

"Oh, illness. Though I am a cure." He laughed as if that was the most hilarious joke he had ever heard. "I guess you could say it depends on your definition of the word."

The nurse gave a roll of the eyes and looked closer at him to do his own assessment. The glassy eyes, so bloodshot the whites of them were nearly gone, the grey tacky texture to his skin, his too thin of face having the gaunt and hollow look of a starved man, and his head appeared to move at odd angles when he looked around in a bird-like way; all of it looked like he was deathly ill. Nodding that it was likely a drunk who had staggered in, he quickly jotted something down on a form.

"We'll get someone in to make sure you aren't too sick to make it home, sir. What's your name?"

He licked his lips again, though there were no moistening such chapped and thoroughly bitten skin. "What was the first man of your kind called?"

"Uh…" Thrown off-guard, the nurse nervously looked at the larger woman behind him. She eyed the drunk thoughtfully but shrugged. They'd seen worse here. "If we're talkin' the Bible, sir, that'd be Adam."

"Adam. Huh. I forgot all about that. Such a human name, much like my other one." The grin widened and instead of softening the features it turned him perfectly horrific. "I'm Adam. Here to be a Father until the Mother finds me."

His eyes slicked to black, twin bottomless depths made hypnotic by the light dancing within it like flame. The nurse stared into his eyes with nothing short of wonder.

"I need sons and daughters." Adam reached out and stroked his face. "I will be a far kinder father to you than your own, Jeffery."

"How did you…"

Leaning over, Adam kissed him on the mouth deeply and the young man sagged forward when he let him go, his lips torn open and bleeding. He began to convulse on the desk so violently that the older nurse shouted his name and Adam turned, hand touching her face to stop her.

"Even one such as you has your worth." She had frozen, equally hypnotized by his eyes. "Tell me, Lenora. Do you believe in angels and demons?"

"I… yes."

"Monsters?"

Her voice was tiny. "Now I do."

"Thank you so much. I'm glad." Adam's politeness was marred by the fangs that suddenly slid down from his gums as he leaned forward. "This will hurt."

The warning was only to keep her still and rigid as he buried his teeth in her neck. Her eyes rolled back in her head when a sharp pain went through her from head to toe, paralyzing her in her place, and when he released her she fell back heavily on the tiled floor. Like her fellow nurse, she began to shake and pitch around.

Both of them died within moments of the venom settling in their bodies.

Reaching up, Adam sucked on his bloody fingers and turned away. "Come on," he called out in a sing song voice and the lights above him flickered, making shadows dance through the room. His power bent the reality around them, stilled it, and he let it send fresh pulses of life into the corpses. The dead reanimated slowly and he watched the muscles twitch and the blood streaking from their mouths turn black. His grin, still malicious, widened as both nurses' eyes opened. They gasped and heaved for breath as they were painfully reborn.

"Time to wake the others," he ordered. "Find the demons. We need stronger souls than the humans. You humans aren't worth what we are to do."

They nodded, still in a haze of pain and confusion.

"This won't last long. Neither of you is quite what I need. I need demons," he declared. "After you bring me the demons that we can all smell here, throw yourselves off the roof."

Both of them nodded obediently and went to do as he said. He smiled and turned to the full waiting room he could see just behind the glass doors. People too consumed by their own lives to worry about what had happened at the front desk.

"I always wondered what revenge would feel like." He licked a spot of blood off his hand. "I like it."


End file.
